When Bev and I married we chose
to speak the words of today’s epistle lesson to one another. Bev read part
of it, and I read part of it; and together we heard those powerful words
about love. First Corinthians 13 is a popular text for wedding services.
But when Paul sent that hymn off to the Christians in Corinth he didn’t have
in mind their marriages, although you can see how these words can apply to
marriage, so much so that husbands and wives probably ought to recite these
words to one another each year on their wedding anniversary. Still, that is
not Paul’s primary purpose in sending these words to the Church in Corinth.
The beautiful words that we find in 1 Corinthians 13 are addressed to a
divided and troubled church. It makes you think. If your task were to try
to heal a divided church, what message would you want to send to them? I
would want the congregation to remember that Christ died for each one of
them. So they are all unified in the fact that they are all people for whom
Christ died. I would want them to realize that, in Christ, God was
reconciling the world to himself. So they are all unified in the fact that
God’s reconciling work in Christ is for them all. Then I would want to let
the divided church know that there is a God-given power that can be put to
work that will heal their congregation, if they let that power go to work
among themselves. Yes, I would want a divided church know about that
God-given power. That power is love.
Enter the apostle Paul. A budding Christian congregation in
Corinth needs to hear about love. The church in Corinth is split into
factions, and the prescription Paul writes out for the factional Corinthian
church is love. Love—like food, water, and air—is necessary for life. It's
hard to imagine being able to exist without any exchanging of love on a
regular basis. Surely love is what will heal a divided church. In her
delightful Hug Therapy Book, mental-health counselor Kathleen Keating
recommends that we hug. "Scientific research," she says, "Scientific
research supports the theory that stimulation by touch is absolutely
necessary for our physical as well as our emotional well-being." Keating
proposes hugging as a special form of touch that contributes to healing.
And what is a hug but a non-verbal form of expressing love? Add to hugs a
word, a gift of a flower, a meal shared, sharing grief silently, reconciling
a brokenness, a ride in a car, a walk in the park, a card hidden where it
will be found later, a kiss. These also are expressions of love.
Peanuts cartoon: Charlie Brown warns Snoopy, "Don't go near that house
today, Snoopy. Lucy's having a 'crab-in.'" Next frame: Snoopy raps on the
door. Third frame: Snoopy surprises Lucy with a kiss. Last frame: Snoopy
says, "That's how you break up a 'crab-in.'" Love, expressed in so many
different ways, Paul elevates to the greatest thing, even above hope and
faith. "Love," he says, "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all
things, endures all things." Paul prescribes love to a divided church,
because love is medication for any human heart. Love removes divisions
because the self is made whole. With individual wholeness, corporate
healing can't be far off. Paul's prescription for love can be refilled
without limit, for love, he says, never ends.
Are you joking, Paul? Love ends, and all
present know it. Every reader of your letter is aware of the transitory
nature of love. Why tell us "Love never ends"? All around us it ends. Sad
to say, now more than half of the marriages end up in divorce courts. Those
who have been through that can tell you, Paul, love ends. Love, once on
fire with passion, often diminishes into cold ashes. Look: A man and a
woman fall deeply in love. The sun shines brighter, the flowers somehow are
more colorful because this love flows between them like magic electricity.
Then suddenly the magic is gone, and there is an unexplainable power
failure. He and she no longer walk hand-in-hand, nor can they hardly face
each other. Love ends, and that's a fact. Or again, once there were two
buddies who had a very close friendship, but something happened. One played
a tasteless prank on the other at a very formal occasion. The friendship
cooled off. Love ends. So, we've got to wonder, Paul, are you joking with
us? You say "Love never ends," but it does. It does! Just show us one
place where love never ends. Show us just one place!
The cross. At the cross is God's love,
which never ends. Self-giving, suffering love is amplified on that cross,
like a message on a huge billboard, love spelled out in all capital
letters. Our love for God fades, but not God's love for us. We forsake
God. We forsake each other. But the steadfast love of God endures
forever. Christ's life, death, and resurrection spell out God's abiding
love. The word for this kind of love is agape. Agape is not
a love given on the condition that the beloved be loveable. Rather,
agape is self-giving love, given unconditionally. God loves sinners
unconditionally. "God shows his love," says Paul, "God shows his love for
us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." Agape
never rejects the sinner, even if the sin itself must be rejected. Agape
is not glandular infatuation. It is not a fickle attraction. Agape
cares, even when it is particularly hard to love. Agape is drawn to
the unlovely. Agape even embraces the enemy. Agape is the
very love with which God loves us. This is the kind of love Paul says never
ends. Agape never ends.
Now we have a standard to shoot for.
Agape is the church's goal, for agape is enduring, self-giving
love. In a world of broken relationships, here we come with our oddball
love. Like bow ties in a swimming pool, agape will seem like a
strange kind of love to some people. Look at what agape does:
Someone is hostile to you, but you don't retaliate. Talk about oddball
love! But that's you doing the loving. You announce, "What you say hurts
me, but I still want to be your friend when you're ready for a friendship."
Without forcing a relationship, you remain available, waiting for the moment
when reconciliation is possible. Admittedly, what makes agape
difficult is that we truly feel pain when someone is hostile to us. Fact
is, we might have to feel angry for a while before we can truly forgive.
Still, agape is the goal of the church. We aim at reconciling
brokenness. Granted, a particular marriage may not be able to be restored,
but ex-spouses can forgive each other and experience some form of
reconciliation. True, people in the church in Corinth—or any Christian
congregation today—may have different positions they hold passionately.
That's got to be true of us, for, after all, we're Presbyterians! Yet,
fundamentally, agape proclaims that there are no sides, no divisions,
no ins, no outs. Agape seeks reconciliation. God seeks
reconciliation with all who are estranged from him. "Beloved," pleads the
writer of First John, "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love
one another." There's the church's standard: to love with Christ-like
love. Agape is our goal.
Do we live up to the standard of agape?
Probably not, not when our love fades; for agape never ends. Even
so, we are God's forgiven people. We can focus our eyes on the cross and
try again. Rejecting the sin, God accepts the sinner and works for our
reconciliation. If God so loves us, we ought to keep trying. Our love also
must be reconciling, caring, and steadfast. Who else is going to deliver
that special kind of love to the world? It has to be you and me. We have
to keep trying. As God has loved us, let us love one another.