1 Corinthians 3:1-23 · On Divisions in the Church
Will It Last?
1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23
Sermon
by John N. Brittain
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A quarter-century ago, the little college at which I worked offered a scholarship for one year of study to a church official from Liberia who needed updating in business and accounting practices. Since this was a mature individual with a wife and children to support, leaving them for a whole year was a big deal, particularly since the scholarship covered his expenses at school but little else. Nonetheless, this was an important opportunity, and he prepared diligently so that when he set off for America it looked as though his family would fare well for nine months with the help of his brother and other extended family members. You can only imagine his distress when he came to our house to share some catastrophic information he had just received from his wife calling from his brother's home. (This, remember, was in the days when just receiving a phone call from Africa would have been a big deal, never mind the content.) A fire had broken out in the city near his home. It was spreading rapidly and in order to stop it from consuming the whole neighborhood, the fire brigade brought in bulldozers to level a number of properties in the hope of containing the blaze. His house was one that was completely leveled. Every one of the family's possessions was destroyed. They literally escaped with the clothes on their backs.

We don't have to be transported in thought to another time and continent to know about these things. Hardly a day goes by that there isn't a story on the news of a fire, flood, earthquake, tornado, or hurricane literally demolishing everything a family, an individual, or a business had built up over a lifetime, or perhaps several generations. A family who relocated to Tennessee following the destruction of their home by Hurricane Katrina had their nearly finished new home flattened by a tornado in April 2006. It was heartbreaking to hear them being interviewed.

The seeming arbitrariness of this destruction sometimes makes it even harder to take. A group of students and I were in Phang Na, Thailand, in May 2005 following the awful Boxing Day tsunami of the previous December. The area had been virtually flattened. I emphasize "virtually" because here and there a structure was left: none unscathed, but some with only the front windows swept out or a side wall carried away. And yet, as arbitrary as it seemed, as we stood looking around us, we knew there were some things at work: the currents of the water that swept in; the amount of debris at any given point; and, obviously, the quality of the structures that withstood the onslaught.

Paul is counting on experiences and memories like these in the metaphor he uses today. His readers have seen — or at least heard about — an area that had been devastated by a fire or similar catastrophe where some lost everything they had and yet some structures were left standing. Why did some structures survive? The obvious question for anyone in the process of building would be, "If this were to happen in my neighborhood, would my house hold up? Would it last?"

We have seen, for the past several weeks, Paul's concern about the fractured nature of the Corinthian church, a fellowship he had been instrumental in founding. And, as is typical, Paul uses a variety of metaphors and examples to make sure his audience understands what he is saying. In 1 Corinthians 3:1-9, he reminded them that they were not as well developed as Christians as some of them thought; indeed some were still babes in the faith. Then Paul spoke of the believers as a garden, a field that was able to grow not because of some inherent merit on their part, but because of the work of various apostles and, primarily, the mercy of God: "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth" (1 Corinthians 2:6). Now another metaphor: that of a building. Paul says that he laid the foundation.

Indeed, according to Acts 18:11, he labored at this great seaport city for eighteen months before moving on, an unusually long stay for this itinerant apostle, so to claim the title of "foundation-layer" was not at all unreasonable. And, he felt sure, the foundation he laid was that of Jesus Christ. But he knew, as do we, that in the catastrophic scenarios we have considered, often all that is left is the foundation, and that is a mixed metaphor. The most concentrated loss of life in Phang Na, Thailand, was at a brand new resort geared to Scandinavian visitors (this part of Thailand is sometimes called "Scandinavia's Hawaii"), which was holding its grand opening on December 26, 2004. The devastation was almost total, but the foundation remained. This "good news" was hard to remember as we walked the beach five months later and found a piece of clothing in one spot and a child's toy in another. Paul was confident in the foundation he had laid but had some questions about all the workmanship that followed. Would it last?

"Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" he asks. Now, if your background is anything like mine, you have often heard these words as an admonition for personal holiness. It brings to mind one of our youth group's mottos: "We don't smoke, and we don't chew, and we don't date the girls that do." This theme of the stewardship of the body is certainly more urgent today in a society flooded with methamphetamines and crack cocaine, where alcohol splits family, tobacco cuts lives short, many are dependent on prescription drugs, and the obesity epidemic is effecting way too many of us. It is a crucial theme that Paul addresses later in this letter.

In chapter 6, specifically addressing the use of prostitutes, which some Corinthians had apparently rationalized, Paul says, "... do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body" (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). But here, Paul is addressing the corporate body of Christ, the church. We know that because in verses 16-18 the "you" Paul addresses is a plural you, "y'all." He is no longer focusing on the work of the builders — himself, Apollos, Cephas, and other leaders — but on what has been built: the corporate body of Christ, the church, "You-all who have the Spirit of God in your midst." At this point, Paul puts in a word for Christian unity. To split a church is wrecking what should be a beautiful thing. Indeed, splitting a church is a terrible sin, simply because the temple of God is holy. "But no one would want to split a church," somebody is thinking. I don't think I'd have the nerve to say that to Paul. In any case, whether we intend to or not, we often do things that undermine the fabric of the church.

Approaching two centuries ago (1821), a law apprentice, Charles G. Finney, in Adams, New York, became interested in the Bible and the church because of references in his law books. Even though he was choir leader in the church, he was unsure of his own spiritual state and eventually had a powerful conversion experience. After ordination in the Presbyterian church, he became concerned that the churches of that day were not what they should have been. While a Calvinist who stressed the overarching providence of God, he nonetheless also recognized the importance of human choices and the responses we, as individuals and groups of individuals, make to God. He became active in a ministry of revivals. (We need to be careful of reading our ideas of modern mass revivals back into Finney's work. It would be better to think of a mixture between modern revivals and what is sometimes called church renewal work.) In his 1835 book, Revivals of Religion or Lectures on Revival,1 he addressed conditions that can cause the church, while built on a firm foundation, to fall apart.

Some of Finney's points capture the essence of Paul's warning in today's lesson in ways that are surprisingly contemporary. Let me suggest a few and comment on them. First, Finney suggested that "the need for renewal in the church, presupposes that the Church is sunk down in a backslidden state, and a revival consists in the return of the Church from her backslidings, and in the conversion of sinners." The church, he seems to be saying, is indeed made up of the "gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw" of which Paul wrote. It is that proverbial hospital for saints where there is still some healing to be done. Later, Paul would write to the Romans, "For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment …" (Romans 12:3). "A revival," Finney wrote, "always includes conviction of sin on the part of the Church." Self-satisfaction and complacency are the natural enemies of the Christian, or of anyone who wishes to develop in any endeavor in life.

One of the truly sad phenomena I have witnessed in over a quarter of a century of working with undergraduate students, is the occasional athlete who thinks they are NBA or NFL material in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Often it has been because they have mistaken natural God-given talent for disciplined development. I think of a young man who was his state's "Mr. Football" his senior year of high school. He attended a junior college and continued to dazzle the fans and confuse the opposing players with his natural agility. Unfortunately, he transferred to a Division II football program and soon had been dismissed from both the team and the school. He was either unwilling or unable to read and understand the playbooks that were necessary at this next level. He turned out to not be as good as he and others supposed. What goes for a single athlete sometimes goes for the whole team.

Finney went on: "Christians will have their faith renewed. While they are in their backslidden state they are blind to the state of sinners. Their hearts are hard as marble. The truths of the Bible appear like a dream. They admit it to be all true; their conscience and their judgment assent to it; but their faith does not see it standing out in bold relief, in all the burning realities of eternity." Listen to this phrase again: "The truths of the Bible appear like a dream." Robert Schuler once wrote that too many American churches get stuck in the pre-evangelization mode: "Wouldn't it be great if you would become a Christian?" This makes the Christian life of discipline, obedience, and joy seem dream-like, always over the rainbow rather than concrete attainable realities.

In words that strike me as prescient, Finney said, "A revival breaks the power of the world and of sin over Christians. It brings them to such vantage ground that they get a fresh impulse towards heaven...." I know this language strikes some modern folks as quaint, and yet the "power of the world" in terms of media, advertising, and overt attempts to shape our values is anything but quaint. In many ways, this is the theme of the entire book of Revelation: The power of the world versus the power of God; the real versus the counterfeit; the eternal values of heaven versus the bogus values of the kings and merchants of the earth (Revelation 18:9-13). Finney was confident that, "When the Churches are thus awakened and reformed, the reformation and salvation of sinners will follow." For Finney, church renewal had nothing to do with institutional survival or "church growth," and everything to do with reforming lives within the church so that the work of outreach and social holiness could grow. Inreach would lead inevitably to outreach.

Finney, as much as the apostle, knew that none of this was automatic: It took (and takes) determined and continuous effort. And there were (and are) obstacles: "Revivals are hindered when ministers and churches take wrong ground in regard to any question involving human rights," Finney continued with a sentence not from last week but nearly two centuries ago! Perhaps he meant something different than do we by "human rights." Not at all. Finney continued, "Take the subject of slavery, for instance. The time was when this subject was not before the public mind. John Newton continued in the slave trade after his conversion, and his mind had been so perverted, and so completely was his conscience seared, in regard to this most nefarious traffic, that the sinfulness of it never occurred to his thoughts until some time after he became a child of God."

 You choose the issue that we today would classify as "human rights." It might be one closer to what Finney had in mind, trafficking in sexual slaves, for instance, or its near cousin of sexual slavery in a place like Bangkok. Or it might be one of a host of allied issues of human pain, suffering, and degradation. There may well be many such concerns that I as an individual or we as a church have simply not considered, but once they are brought to our attention, once we grow beyond spiritual infancy, once our consciences are trained, we can no longer evade addressing.

The chapel at one institution I served seated about 550, but we regularly packed it with 700 (once almost 800) people for special events, particularly musical ones. One Christmas season an elderly woman collapsed; the ambulance was summoned, but the paramedics had a very difficult time getting to her because of overcrowded aisles and blocked exits. Needless to say, the friendly fire marshal soon visited and clarified various regulations which, in all truth, we had been ignoring. But, having been illuminated, we could not go back. For the rest of my tenure at the place, I had regular encounters with individuals who wanted to go back to the bad old days of blocked exits and chairs in the aisles. "We always did it that way." Once what was mistaken for gold is recognized as straw, change is not made at peril.

It is true that many Christian individuals, like John Newton, and many denominations and congregations have not traditionally addressed issues like the rights of women, culturally tolerated forms of sexual exploitation, or the threats posed by internet porn. Sometimes we have been slow learners in even recognizing these things as problems. But once we have our consciousness raised, we cannot go back without endangering our own souls and the life of our churches. What Finney asserted about slavery applies to any of these and a host of similar issues: "The church cannot turn away from this question. It is a question for the church and for the nation to decide, and God will push it to a decision. It is in vain for us to resist it for fear of distraction, contention, and strife. It is in vain to account it an act of piety to turn away the ear from hearing this cry of distress."

It is vain because if we believers and churches are indeed God's temple indwelt by God's Spirit, we have an enormous responsibility. "For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future — all belong to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God." All things. There is not an issue, not a development, not a thought that we cannot and should not take captive to Christ.

Commenting on this passage a half-century ago, Paul Tillich, in The New Being, has this to say:

Paul's courage in affirming everything given, his openness towards the world, his sovereignty towards life should put to shame each of us as well as all our Churches. We are afraid to accept what is given to us; we are in compulsive self-seclusion towards our world, we try to escape life instead of controlling it. We do not behave as if everything were ours. And the Churches do so even less. The reason for this is that we and our Churches do not know as Paul did what it means to be Christ's and because of being Christ's, to be God's.2Paul's courage in affirming everything given, his openness towards the world, his sovereignty towards life should put to shame each of us as well as all our Churches. We are afraid to accept what is given to us; we are in compulsive self-seclusion towards our world, we try to escape life instead of controlling it. We do not behave as if everything were ours. And the Churches do so even less. The reason for this is that we and our Churches do not know as Paul did what it means to be Christ's and because of being Christ's, to be God's.2

When we are truly Christ's, we progress beyond thinking we can avert our eyes from the world's needs, and we know we cannot substitute straw for gold. We allow our lives and our churches to be built according to God's plan, using God's materials, and accomplishing God's purposes. Then, and only then, can we answer the question, "But will it last?" Amen.


1. Available online at http://www.ccel.org/f/finney/revival.

2. From http://www.religion-online.org/showchapter.asp?title=375&C=28.

CSS Publishing, Inc., Sermons for Sundays in Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany: With Our Own Eyes, by John N. Brittain