2nd Sunday of Easter, 2022 - Abiding

 Abiding – it’s such a beautiful concept, such a powerful metaphor.

“Abide in me,” John 15:4.

Drawing from the metaphor of the vine and the branches, abiding is staying connected. As long as the branch is connected to the vine, the life of the vine flows through the branch, producing fruit.

In the gospel of John, abiding is the way of life for the follower of Jesus. It is the secret to the life of those who follower Jesus. “”Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me” (John 15:4). 

Abiding produces fruit, much fruit (John 15:5). Abiding enriches our experience of prayer and releases its power in our lives (John 15:7). Abiding empowers us to live the ways of God Jesus taught so that our lives are patterned after and reflect the life of Jesus (John 15:10). Abiding produces the joy of Christ in our lives (John 15:11). Abiding leads us to love as Jesus loved … to love one another with the self-giving, self-sacrificing love of God (John 15:12-13). 

Abiding – it’s such a beautiful concept, such a powerful metaphor … and a constant challenge.

Abiding is staying connected to Christ. It is staying attuned to the Spirit and the Spirit’s guidance in the depths of our being. Yet it is so easy to get distracted … to get consumed with responsibilities, tasks, schedule, busyness … to constantly be on-the-go. 

An underlying assumption of our Western culture undercuts this abiding in Christ. This assumption unconsciously drives us and shapes the spirit with which we live. The assumption is that productivity is the measure of our worth and value. 

Productivity is one of the top values in our Western culture. It is foundational to our culture. Productivity calls for of self-effort and self-reliance coupled with determination, commitment, discipline, focus, and perseverance. Our success in being productive demonstrates our worth and value. Our society rewards our productivity with wealth and status. As a result, the amount of our wealth becomes another indicator of our worth and value. A natural byproduct of our focus on productivity is how we look down on people who do not work, viewing them as lazy grafters who are out to take what is rightfully ours. (Think those “on welfare.”) Yet another byproduct surfaces as we get older. Retirement and aging create identity crises as our work — the means by which we produced — is taken from us. In a productivity-oriented culture, busyness becomes a mark of importance. “Staying busy” becomes a badge we wear to prop up our sense of importance. 

Busyness is a barrier to abiding. Abiding, not busyness, bears fruit in the life of the Christ-follower. 

Fruit is different from productivity. Whereas productivity is the result of self-effort and self-reliance coupled with determination, commitment, discipline, focus, and perseverance, fruit is the natural product of the life of Christ flowing through us. This Spirit-produced life of Christ is expressed through our gifts and passions. While the fruit-bearing process involves commitment, discipline, focus, and perseverance, it is not the result of self-effort or self-reliance. It is the result of the Spirit’s work in us and through us. In other words, bearing fruit cannot be forced. The commitment, discipline, focus, and perseverance in the life of the Christ-follower is upon abiding. The focus is on the relationship that produces the fruit, not the fruit itself. As we stay connected, the life of Christ naturally flows through us, producing fruit. 

Our busyness with its subtle self-importance blocks our ability to stay connected with Christ. While our busyness may make us productive — or at least, have the appearance of being productive — it does not make us fruitful. In fact, it keeps us from being fruitful. Bearing fruit comes through staying connected with Christ — abiding. 

Abiding – it’s such a beautiful concept, such a powerful metaphor … and such a constant challenge to our “staying busy” thinking and living. 

Easter, 2022 - John's Unique Account of the Resurrection

Christ is risen! Alleluia!

Today we celebrate Jesus’s resurrection from the dead. John’s account of the resurrection guides our thoughts in this reflection.

The account of the resurrection in the gospel of John (John 20) differs from the accounts found in the synoptic gospels. John focuses on Mary Magdalene, one of the women who were a part of Jesus’s circle of disciples (Luke 8:1-3). In John’s account, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb alone, but in the synoptic gospels, she was accompanied by other women. When she arrived, she saw that the stone had been rolled away from the door of the tomb. Assuming that someone had stolen Jesus’s body, she ran to Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved — commonly understood to be John — to tell them. This detail is unique to John’s gospel. In Matthew and Luke, the women ran to report to the disciples only after they had encountered an angel. They went to report that Jesus had been raised from the dead. Here, Mary Magdalene ran to report she had found the tomb had been opened. Naturally, Peter and John ran to the tomb to check out what had happened. John’s gospel is the only one to indicate that they went to the tomb. The synoptic gospels have no mention of any of the Twelve going to the tomb. Only the women went to the tomb in those accounts. John, arriving first, stood outside looking in. When Peter arrived, he seemingly did not hesitate. He entered the tomb. They found the tomb was empty, but they found nothing to indicate what had happened. They found the linen burial cloths, lying where they had been cast aside. They also found the cloth that had been used to wrap Jesus’s head, rolled up and lying apart from the other burial clothes. Having taken stock of the situation, they left the tomb, returning home. John’s gospel indicates that John believed (John 20:8), i.e., John believed Jesus had been raised from the dead, not that his body had been moved or stolen. The gospel writer specifically noted “as yet they did not understand the scripture that he must rise from the dead” (John 20:9).

After Peter and John left the tomb, the story again focused on Mary Magdalene. First, she looked into the tomb without entering it. There she saw two angels who spoke to her. “Woman, why are you weeping?” (John 20:13). She did not recognize them as angels. As she turned away from the tomb, she saw Jesus, but thought he was the gardener. Jesus repeated the question posed by the angels, “Woman, why are you weeping?” He probed further, “Whom are you looking for?”  (John 20:15). That question was all the opening she needed. Still thinking someone had taken Jesus’s body, she asked about where his body had been taken. Only after Jesus called her by name did she recognize him. “Mary!” (John 20:16).

The personal touch of being called by name enabled Mary to recognize him. “Teacher!” (John 20:16). Apparently, she grabbed him, hugging him in joy for Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me” (John 20:17). He then instructed her to go tell the other disciples. Having been raised from the dead, he was returning to the Father from whom he had come (John 20:17). Mary returned to the other disciples, announcing to them that she had seen Jesus, very much alive. She told them all that Jesus had said to her (John 20:18). Mary Magdalene was the first witness to the resurrection and the first to proclaim it to others. She was the first apostle, i.e., one sent to announce the good news!

It seems to me a central theme runs through all the twists and turns of John’s unique resurrection story. Jesus is the rabbi (teacher) who teaches us the spiritual truths we otherwise do not see, even though the scripture bears witness to these truths (John 20:9). Jesus reveals to us the Father so that we may know him (John 17:3). (This is a major, repeated theme in John’s gospel — John 1:14, 18; 14:9 — reemphasized in the story of the resurrection.) Through Jesus, we are beloved children of God (John 1:12-13; 1 John 3:1-3). We know God with the same kind of intimacy as Jesus did, as Abba (Father) — “to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20:17). We live in intimate relationship with God as Father. In and through Jesus, we have a personal relationship with God in which God knows us by name. We participate in God’s life, the life shared in the Godhead — what the gospel of John calls eternal life.

In the story of Mary Magdalene, Jesus told Mary, “Do not hold on to me” (John 20:17). This detail has multiple layers of meaning (in my mind). On the surface, it refers to Mary Magdalene joyfully clinging to Jesus, perhaps afraid of losing him again. On another level, this part of the story points to a spiritual truth. We cannot experience the full life of the resurrection until we stop holding on to old ways of thinking about God and our old ways of relating to God. Like Mary Magdalene, we have to turn loose of the old in order to experience the new.

Following the Apostle Paul’s teaching about the resurrection (1 Corinthians 15), we traditionally use Easter Sunday to celebrate that, in rising from the dead, Jesus destroyed the power of sin and death. His resurrection sets us free from the destructive, controlling power of sin and its consequence, death. We no longer need fear death.

Death has been swallowed up in victory.

Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ, 1 Corinthians 15:54-55.

John’s account of the resurrection proclaims a different reality. John’s account proclaims the truth of all that Jesus taught about God. God is a loving Father — Abba — who relates to us out of grace. We are beloved children, claimed in Christ Jesus through the waters of baptism (John 1:12-13). Through the indwelling Spirit, both Jesus and the Father dwell in us (John 14:23). We are participants in God’s nature and, thereby, in God’s life — eternal life. The very life of God flows in us and through us, empowering us to love as Jesus loved (John 15:1-17).

This Easter, as we talk about victory over death, may we also talk about life — God’s life in us, i.e., eternal life. May we hear John’s account of the resurrection call us to turn loose of old ways of thinking about and relating to God! May we embrace God as Abba even as God, with delight, embraces us as beloved children!

“To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. … From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:12-13, 16).

Good Friday, 2022 - Looking at the Cross through a Different Len

Today is Good Friday, the day we remember Jesus’s death on the cross. As we remember, we reflect. We attempt to give meaning to his horrific, tortured death. How are we to understand his death on the cross?  “Jesus died for our sins” is how we commonly explain it.

What do we mean when we say “Jesus died for our sins”?

The widely accepted understanding is that Jesus died because of our sins and on behalf of our sins. This way of explaining Jesus’s death on the cross follows this line of thinking. We humans sin, falling short of the life for which we were created. As Paul said, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Following our own will, we disobey God and violate God’s laws. Because of our sins, we stand under God’s condemnation and judgment. We deserve to be punished for our sins. In his death on the cross, Jesus took our place. He took on the punishment we deserved. He stood in for us, dying on our behalf and on behalf of our sins. He died so God would forgive our sins.

This theology is called substitutionary atonement. Jesus was our substitute, experiencing what we deserved. His death atoned for our sins, satisfying God’s righteous judgment and freeing God to forgive us.

This understanding — theology — is reflected in many of our hymns and praise music. Most of the hymns about the cross and about Jesus’s blood reflect this line of thinking. It is captured in the words of the popular praise chorus “He Paid a Debt He Did Not Owe”:

He paid a debt he did not owe,
I owed a debt I could not pay,
I needed someone to wash my sins away;
And now I sing a brand new song,
Amazing grace all day long,
Christ Jesus paid a debt
That I could never pay.

We have heard this interpretation of Jesus’s death on the cross so much that we assume it is true. Few of us have stopped to actually examine it.

What would it look like to view the cross through a different set of lens? Why would we?

Allow me to address the last question first: why would we look at Jesus’s death on the cross any other way? There are actually a number of reasons.

(I recognize most of us have difficulty accepting anything that challenges what we believe. We cling to what we believe is true. After all, we have built our lives upon this understanding. It has shaped how we think and live. So naturally, we will have difficulty understanding Jesus’s death on the cross any other way.)

This understanding of Jesus’s death on the cross did not surface until the eleventh century. It was formulated by Anselm, arch-bishop of Canterbury. It reflected the feudal structure upon which English life was built at that time. The land was owned and managed by lords, the ruling class, on behalf of the king. The common man worked the land for their particular lord. Whenever a common man did something that wronged his lord, he was punished for his wrongdoing. The punishment was an attempt to make right the wrong that was done. The wrongdoing, however, was also an offense to the lord’s honor. That honor had to be appeased, a balm applied to the lord’s wounded ego. In addition to being punished for his wrongdoing, the wrongdoer was subjected to some kind of greater humiliation and punishment to atone his lord’s honor. Once the wrongdoing had been punished and the offended honor atoned, the lord could once again be gracious in his dealings with the underling. Anselm used this cultural practice as a way of explaining Jesus’s death on the cross. The wrongdoing had to be punished; God’s honor had to be atoned; only then could God forgive. Anselm viewed Jesus’s death on the cross through the lens of his hierarchal, feudal culture.

Not only is this understanding built upon a cultural practice of eleventh century England, it is also built upon merit-based thinking. Merit-based thinking demands that we get what we deserve. Wrongdoing and failure have to be punished. Jesus, following the teaching of the Hebrew Scriptures, taught that God “does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities” (Psalm 103:10). Instead, God relates to us out of who God is, particularly out of God’s steadfast, faithful love.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,

So great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;

As far as the east is from the west,

So far he removes our transgressions from us (Psalm 103:11-12).

Merit-based thinking and relating is our human default, but it is not God’s.

Consider what this common understanding of the cross says about God. It portrays God as an angry, offended God who must be appeased before he will forgive. That is not who Jesus said God is nor is it in line with what God revealed to Moses. At Sinai, the LORD described himself as merciful and gracious, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. That steadfast, faithful love is expressed in being slow to anger and in forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin (Exodus 34:6-7). As seen in the life and ministry of Jesus, God relates to us out of grace and forgiveness. This popular way of understanding Jesus’s death on the cross does not align with the revealed character of God.

Additionally, this way of understanding the cross keeps the focus on me: my sin, my wrongdoing, my debt, my need, God’s love for me, my salvation. It produces a me-centered, man-centered salvation. Lurking beneath this way of thinking about the cross is the ego-centric self.

Finally, this way of understanding Jesus’s death on the cross was not the way the New Testament writers understood it. Nevertheless, because it is the way we have been taught to understand Jesus’s death on the cross, we read the New Testament writings through the lens of God punishing Jesus for what we deserved.

Which brings me (finally) to my first question and the thrust of this musing: what would it look like to view the cross through a different set of lens? Specifically, what would it look like to view Jesus’s death on the cross through the lens of God’s character?

I have already identified God’s character as being merciful and gracious. The central, defining characteristic of God’s character is steadfast, faithful love that refuses to give up on or abandon us. God’s love is expressed in two primary ways: God is slow to anger and God forgives our sins. The writer of 1 John understood God’s revealed character when he wrote “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Paul used the word grace to express what such love looks like. Jesus was the in-the-flesh embodiment of such love, extending grace and forgiveness to all.

So, viewing Jesus’s death on the cross through the lens of God’s character, how are we to understand it? 

Paul helps us. Paul saw Jesus’s death on the cross as an expression of God’s faithful love that refused to give up on us or abandon us. For Paul, the cross was God being faithful to the divine character and to his covenant with us, that is, God being righteous. “For in it (the gospel of Jesus’s death and resurrection) the righteousness of God is revealed” (Romans 1:17). The cross was God loving us, refusing to give up on us or abandon us … even when we crucified his Son on the cross.

I like the way Richard Rohr speaks of the cross. For me, it captures the idea of the cross being an expression of God’s faithful love. Rohr says, “Jesus did not die on the cross to convince God to forgive us. Jesus died on the cross to convince us that God has already forgiven us.” Rohr’s understanding puts the focus back on God. It leads to a God-centered Christianity.

Viewing the cross through the lens of God’s character, one might ask, “From what, then, does Jesus's death on the cross save us?”

Jesus’s death on the cross does not save us from God’s judgment. God’s love displaces judgment. (See Hosea 11:8-9.) The cross is an expression of love, not judgment.

If not judgment, what then? Jesus’s death on the cross — or, rather, God’s faithful love that refuses to give up on us or abandon us — saves us from ourselves, from our merit-oriented thinking, from our stubborn self-reliance, from the natural outcome of our self-destructive choices (what Paul calls the wrath of God, Romans 1:18-32). In other words, Jesus’s death on the cross saves us from our sins.

In addition to Jesus’s death on the cross, God’s steadfast, faithful love is seen at Pentecost in the outpouring of the Spirit to live with us and in us and among us. The Spirit works in us, transforming our hearts and minds, conforming us to the image of Christ. Before the Spirit’s work is done, we will have been recreated in the likeness of Jesus. Living out of steadfast, faithful love, God will continue to be faithful to us, bringing us to Christ-like maturity.

What new ways of thinking, what new ways of living might we discover if we viewed not just the cross, but the entirety of our relationship with God through the eyes of God’s character?

Maundy Thursday, 2022 - Do You Understand?

Surely, the Twelve were accustomed to Jesus doing the unexpected. He had always followed his own inner GPS and colored outside the lines. He knowingly and intentionally broke the rules of his religiously shaped culture. He refused to pander to the religious leaders or play political games. It was part of why they followed him. But this time he went too far!!

That evening, without a word of warning, he wrapped a towel around his waist and filled a basin with water. He then went wordlessly from one to the next, unlacing their sandals and gently washing the dust of the day from their dirty, sweaty feet, drying them with the towel tied around his waist. It was the work of a servant — the household slave — not their rabbi!

Washing feet was a part of the cultural expectations of the day. As guests gathered for a dinner party, the host provided this service as part of his welcome. It was a way of transitioning from the journey and the day’s demands into the relaxed fellowship of the dinner party. It was a soothing practice that did more than remove the dust and sweat from the feet. It helped them relax and unwind. The host provided this service to his guests, but he did not do the foot washing himself. It was the work of his servant, his household slave.

A slave occupied one of the lowest positions in the social structure of their society. He or she had no power, no standing, no voice. She had no value outside of the tasks she performed. He was a human machine doing an assigned task for which he had been trained. He (or she) had no personal identity outside the role of a slave.

That night, Jesus took on the role of the household slave — the role of a servant.

It was Peter — dear old Peter — who said out loud what everyone was thinking. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doing? You’re not going wash my feet!”

What Jesus said back to Peter was spot on! “You do not know now what I am doing” (John 13:7). Peter could not understand … and he wasn’t the only one! None of them understood what Jesus was doing. All they knew was it was highly inappropriate and it made them extremely uncomfortable.

The Twelve did not, could not understand what Jesus was doing because they were thinking from the perspective of the ego-centric self with its merit-based thinking. Merit-based thinking, which produces the ego-centric self, is our default way of thinking. It is thinking that is based upon merit. Its language is the language of deserving. In this way of thinking, the ego-centric self ties its sense of identity to how well it measures up to some set of expectations. Its value is tied to its standing in the hierarchy of relationships. That’s why what Jesus was doing was so offensive to them. Their rabbi, their leader — the one at the top of their hierarchal relationship system — was doing the work of one who was at the very bottom of that hierarchy.

“Do you know what I have done to you?” (John 13:12). Obviously, they did. He had washed their feet. And, obviously, they did not. They did not understand.

In washing their feet, Jesus was washing away more than the dirt and sweat. He was washing away the way they thought and, along with it, the sense of identity and value they had constructed based upon that merit-based, measuring-up way of thinking. He was teaching them a new way of thinking and living — one that turned their old way of thinking and living upside down. He was teaching them a new identity — one rooted in their relationship with God and in God’s love, not in how well they measured up or where they stood in the hierarchy, i.e., the ego-centric self. He was teaching them to love.

When Jesus took on the role of the servant that evening, it was not the first time. It was not a role he took on for just that event or that evening. It was his essential nature. Jesus lived out of a servant spirit. He lived out of love (John 13:3). Jesus lived as a servant because self-giving, servant love was and is the nature of God.

What Jesus did that night — washing the feet of his disciples — was to give them an unforgettable image of what it means to be his follower. Being a follower of Jesus is to die to the ego-centric self with its merit-based thinking and living. It is to embrace a new way of thinking and living. It is to claim a new identity, one rooted in the love of God. To be a follower of Jesus is to be a servant. It is to love as Jesus loved.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another” (John 13:34). The ego-centric self, rooted in merit-based thinking, cannot genuinely love. All it can do is compare and compete as to how well it is measuring up in comparison to others.

This Maundy Thursday, may we understand what the disciples could not! May we understand the way of the servant.

Palm Sunday, 2022 - A Sermon in Four Part Harmony

 

How do you communicate something the other doesn’t want to hear? Refuses to hear? Can’t hear? 

Such was the challenge Jesus faced as he entered Jerusalem for the Passover celebration. It seemed that no one — not the crowds that flocked to him, especially not the religious leaders who opposed him, not even his disciples — had understood what he had been teaching about God and the Kingdom. Knowing he would be crucified by the end of the week, he planned and implemented four events that would proclaim the truth he knew — four actions that could not be ignored or forgotten. In doing so, he adopted the pattern used by the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel. He acted out his sermons. These acted-out sermons embodied the truth he proclaimed but could not, would not be heard.  They provided images that would be remembered and reflected on.

The four acted-out sermons were the royal entry on Sunday (Mark 11), the cleansing of the Temple on Monday (according to Mark 11:12-19) followed by the teaching in the Temple during the week, the washing of the disciples’ feet (John 13), and the reinterpretation of the Passover meal (Mark 14:17-26). Each event proclaimed the same truth from a different perspective — as though in four part harmony. Still today, we remember these four sermons. Hopefully, we reflect on them so that we may hear and embrace the truth they proclaimed.

Jesus’s acted-out sermons reflected his refusal to give up on or abandon those who could not and would not hear. He continued to give to them even as they refused what he had to give. As the gospel of John puts it, “He loved them to the end” (John 13:1). These acted-out sermons offered the possibility that his truth could be heard and embraced sometime in the future.

Jesus’s faithful love, expressed in these four acted-out sermons, raises for me the question, “Why do we not want to hear, why do we refuse to hear the truth Jesus taught about God and the Kingdom?” I find the answer to my question in the gospel of Matthew. Jesus, referencing the prophet Isaiah, explained why he taught in parables — which were another attempt to help people hear what they could not and would not hear.

‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn— and I would heal them’ (Matthew 13:14-15).

Jesus used parables, as he did the acted-out sermons, in an attempt to get around the resistance to what he taught. The people’s hearts were unresponsive to truth – dull. They could not hear with their ears or see with their eyes. Using the text from Isaiah, Jesus explained the reason for their resistance: “so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn.” They refused to hear because they did not want to change — turn.

Our resistance to truth is part of our resistance to change.

We have built our lives and our identities on what we believe. When something or someone challenges what we believe, it threatens how we live our lives along with our sense of identity — our understanding of who we are. Embracing “the new” as truth disrupts what is — our understanding of life, how we live our lives, our understanding of who we are based on our beliefs.

The ways of the Kingdom that Jesus taught are at odds with the way of thinking in which we were trained. Relationships in the Kingdom are based on grace and forgiveness. Relationships in the world are based upon merit-based thinking. We get what we deserve. We give what we believe the other deserves. In the Kingdom, all are viewed and valued, accepted and embraced as beloved children of God. The merit-based thinking of the world produces hierarchal relationships (better than-less than) and us-them divisions. In the Kingdom, power is used to serve. It is used in life-giving ways that nurtures the other toward emotional-relational-spiritual maturity. The merit-based thinking of the world taught us to use our power in self-serving ways. We were trained to use power against others for our own advantage. The merit-based thinking of the world taught us that our identity was inseparably tied to our achievements and success, to our standing in the hierarchy, and to how we compare to others.

Embracing the truth Jesus taught about God and the Kingdom turns our thinking and our living upside down. It puts us out of step with the society and culture that taught us who we were and how we were supposed to live. The truth Jesus taught produces radical change. It changes how we think and what we value. It changes how we live, including how we use our time and our material wealth. The truth Jesus taught changes who we understand ourselves to be and how we view others.

Change is hard. It requires turning loose of the old and familiar as we embrace that which is new and different. It requires a willingness to learn and grow. It requires thinking that involves unlearning while we are learning to think differently. It requires us to jettison old attitudes and prejudices as the Spirit engrains the servant spirit of Christ in our hearts. Change requires intentionality and effort. It requires maturity reflected in the strength to be out of step with and at odds with those around us. It requires a strength we draw from the Spirit.

As we begin another Holy Week, we again encounter Jesus’s four acted-out parables. They invite us to remember and to reflect. They invite us to learn again the truth Jesus taught in four-part harmony. They invite us to be transformed by the truth he taught. They invite us to change.

 

5th Sunday of Lent, 2022 - Fools for Christ

 "We are fools for Christ” (1 Corinthians 4:10).

Paul experienced what many pastors, including myself, have experienced. He had gotten crossways with some of the people at Corinth. They were at odds with him, criticizing him and resisting his leadership. As a result, the body was divided. Conflict kept the members at odds, not only with Paul, but with one another. Each faction believed they were right and, therefore better than those who believed differently.

Paul wrote what we know as 1 Corinthians to address the issues that had the congregation in turmoil. He addressed the issues by addressing the thinking that fueled them. The conflict was fueled by thinking that Paul called “the wisdom of this age” (1 Corinthians 2:6). This wisdom was at odds with the wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 2:7) which the Spirit teaches (1 Corinthians 2:13).

Paul’s words remind us that every church conflict is fueled by and kept alive by members who live out of the wisdom of the world rather than by the Spirit-guided wisdom of God. The wisdom of the world operates out of a self-serving, me-centered spirit. It runs on anxiety, not knowing how to negotiate the differences that are an inherent part of life and society. The wisdom of the world is us-them thinking. It creates power struggles that lead to winners and losers. It produces conflict that results in division and polarization.

Paul indicated that those in the church who engage in conflict are following the wisdom of the world. They are spiritually immature (1 Corinthians 3:1-4), living out of their innate self-serving nature, i.e., the flesh (1 Corinthians 3:3). They cannot understand the ways of God which the Spirit teaches (1 Corinthians 2:14). The ways of God are foolish in their minds (1 Corinthians 2:14).

In dealing with the Corinthians, Paul refused to engage the ways of the world. He refused to exalt himself as right or as better than them. He refused to give up on them, abandoning them as hopeless. He refused to use his power to attack them. He refused to use his position as an apostle to lord it over them, demanding submission. Rather, he continued to engage them, teaching them and calling them to think with the wisdom of God. He sought to help them, using the conflict as an occasion for learning and growth. He lived out of a servant heart.

In other words, he followed the ways of God that looked foolish if you are trying to win an argument. He choose to be a fool for Christ (1 Corinthians 4:10).