Loving
Stories
CHRISTIANITY IS A VERB
INSPIRATIONAL ANECDOTES
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends; as for prophecy, it will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:1-13)
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. (verse 1)
A gong has always impressed me as an almost unnecessary instrument. Each time a musician slams into one with a mallet to achieve the dull, disconcerting clash, I fully expect a secret passage to appear, or an oriental servant to fawn onto the stage. Cymbals provide slightly more flexible, functional accents of emphasis. However, both the gong and the cymbal produce but a single monotonous tone which, if protracted, soon grows irritating. Paul, who obviously was not enchanted by either of them, simply noted that gongs are "noisy," and cymbals "clang." But he says more; eloquence without love is just so much noise.
Love energizes and creates. Love does the deed which indifference is never motivated to do. It translates words and emotions into action. Eloquence and silver-tongued oratory, from anyone's mouth, are poetic to listen to, but alas, after a while, sugar-coated elocution which does nothing becomes as irritating as a noisy gong or clanging cymbals.
Love even affects our vocabulary. For instance, love enables one to say things which otherwise might not have been said. Several years ago, an old minister was presiding over the last rites of one of his dear friends. The deceased was a long-time fishing companion of the minister and was known to all as a rather colorful character. The old minister began, "Jim was a loud-mouthed, windy, obnoxious old man ..." I almost fell out of the pew, but soon noticed that the minister had a tear in his eye, and the memories of years and years of friendship lodged in his throat. He could say that about his friend because he loved him, and everyone knew it. Love creates its own eloquence.
And there are times when love is eloquently "unspoken." It may be mama pulling the cover to your chin in the middle of a chilly night, a hot meal, quietly prepared, and proudly set on the table, the button sewed on your shirt in such an unassuming manner that you forgot it had been missing in the first place, a game of pitch in the yard, or just a lap to sit in as a little voice reads a lesson aloud. Love doesn't have to say anything. And without it, perhaps it is better not to speak at all.
And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. (verse 2)
What could be greater than knowing what is going to happen, understanding everything that has already happened, and embracing an assurance that everything is going to be all right? Only one thing, according to Paul; to experience the joy of being loved is more desirable than the possession of knowledge, and the ability to express love is a thing surpassing wisdom. Without love, knowledge and discernment are likely to be misused.
Jonah was a prophet of sorts. From the moment he arrived in the sprawling Assyrian city of Ninevah, he knew what was going to happen. God had told him. Doom and destruction were impending, and the more he pronounced it, the more enthusiastic he became. He "knew what was going to happen," but the absence of love in his heart rendered him a useless vessel. And, as it turned out, when God reversed his judgment; Jonah didn't know as much as he thought
he did.
From all accounts, Saul of Tarsus was an exceptionally learned man. Having studied at the feet of Gamaliel, strengthened by his position and experience as a Pharisee, he is reputed to have been one of the most knowledgeable figures of New Testament times. He possessed an exceptionally keen mind and was exceedingly astute at grasping "things which had already happened." Likewise, we are told that the disciples were men of strong faith, although our Lord chided them from time to time for their self-centered efforts and attempts at showy display. To the man, Jonah, Saul, and the disciples, all of them, misused their gifts for purposes which were not intended.
I have read that one of humankind's handiest devices, the paper clip, is used more often than not for purposes other than clipping papers together. We are told that six percent are used for toothpicks, five percent as nail cleaners, seventeen percent as safety-pin substitutes, three percent as pipe cleaners, fourteen percent as something to be bent or broken while talking on the telephone, and only twenty percent end up being used to hold paper together. I used a couple the other day to fasten the glass in a gaslight.
Prophecy, faith, knowledge, and people all have intended uses. I wonder how many times they end up being used for the wrong reasons? Paul claimed that unless their aim is love, they count for nothing.
If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (verse 3)
A woman testified on the radio some time ago how God had blessed her life because she had contributed money to a certain radio preacher. She stated that although her contribution had been large, it was nothing compared to the money God had suddenly made available to her. In fact, she enthusiastically expressed her intent to give more because she knew her contribution would he multiplied in personal gain. Followed to its logical conclusion, such a practice would eventually lead one to conclude to give away everything with the assurance of being rewarded with more than one had in the first place. That is a sorry motive for giving. Particularly when we misunderstand the scriptures to imply that God has promised to make a "deal" with us which always pays larger dividends than our initial "investment." Giving something away for the sole purpose of being rewarded by a greater return is counterfeit generosity. The emphasis is upon the "reward," not the gift. Paul reminds me that it is possible to "give away" all we may have in pursuit of rewards, or fulfilling one's duty to the Church, or trying to stay on God's "good side," or "paying" our way to heaven, or for whatever reason; but unless the motivation is love (agape), we are actually gaining nothing. Agape includes giving without the slightest thought of receiving anything in return; it makes its gift for love's sake, careless of the gain.
The human personality is a complicated subject. From time to time we may encounter a personality obsessed by a "persecution complex" - always suffering and agonizing because of some injustice,
unfairness, or unfortunate incident. The fact is, such persons are not content unless they are suffering about something; their egos feed on it as a kind of "self-purge" or make them feel more Christ-like or holy (or something?). In a sense, they envision themselves bearing the sins of the whole world upon their shoulders, or at least, more than their share. The persecution complex moves easily into a "martyr complex" where one's ego takes the ultimate plunge. It may be suicide to "get back at someone," or "make a point," or someone setting fire to himself as a "rejection" of the world. A person may give his life for the wrong reasons. By contrast, early Christians were burned at the stake because of their love for God in Christ; they did not seek the stake, as our Lord did not seek the Cross. Polycarp, the great ancient churchman, so loved Christ that he sang hymns as the flames engulfed his body.
The meaning of a gift is not determined by its substance, but by its motivation. It does not count the gain, nor even consider the cost. It just loves.
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful. (verse 4)
Impatience is a polite form of arrogance. At its tactful best, it is but the ego-centered expression that "I don't have time for this," or "I will not spend my time in this manner." If impatience toward others is, in fact, haughtiness in disguise, impatience with oneself is self-inflicted insolence. Neither have regard for the other person and, instead of hastening understanding, proceed to stifle love's possibilities. Love knows how to wait. Where would we be had not some good teacher patiently presided over the first illegible markings of our stubby, little, undisciplined hands and notoriously short attention spans, while teaching us to write out the letters of our first awkward words? Oh, I suppose it is possible to teach another to write on the strength of sheer teaching skills and techniques alone, but love and patience warm the lesson. The coldest schoolmaster can teach us to copy words upon a page, but the patient, loving manner impresses words upon our hearts. Love knows how to wait and is patient. It is kind enough to allow time.
Jealousy is the hallmark of possessiveness. Where impatience says "my," jealousy says "mine." Jealousy does not love; it victimizes. It is intolerent of anything but absolute attention, always demanding some short-lived satisfaction for its chronic insecurity. It says, "tell me I am as beautiful as she is," or "my clothes are as attractive as so-and-so's," or "we may not have as much as they do, but they owe for everything they have," etc. Jealousy is never satisfied for it is never secure. It often occupies the house that love has moved from; the two cannot abide within the same breast at the same moment. By any name, romantic or otherwise, the concern of jealousy is with "I" instead of "Thou."
Boastfulness, as impatience and jealousy, is an ego malady. Unlike the frown, or heavy sigh, or leering eye, it is the verbal testimony of self-centeredness, self-praise. The old gag, saying, "Blessed is he who toots his own horn, for otherwise that horn shall not be tooted," contains some truth. However, there is a counter-saying which probably lays down the whole of it: "The man who sings his own praise invariably sings a solo unaccompanied." Proverb 27:2 states the matter bluntly: "Let another man praise you, and not with your own mouth."
Plainly, according to Paul, love reverses the ego. The ego perverts love, and self-love is the supreme perversion.
It is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. (verse 5)
Life has its share of humbling experiences. They are necessary, I suppose, to remind us of our humanity. Enrico Caruso, the great tenor, was once traveling alone in the country when his car broke down. A farmer passed by, drove him into town to summon a mechanic, then took him home for lunch while the car was being repaired. Following the meal, Caruso arose and, as a gesture of thanks, sang for the farmer and his wife. When the farmer asked his name, the famous singer replied with a swagger, "Caruso." "Lord! Think of that," the farmer gasped. "I've read about you for years." Caruso was mightily impressed. "And to think you've been here ... and you've sung right here in this kitchen! Caruso, the great, the famous traveler ... Robinson Caruso!" Some people make it terribly difficult for us to be arrogant, don't they? I was in a restaurant once and noticed the couple at a nearby table regularly glancing in my direction. After about ten minutes of curious stares and muffled comments, one of them came over to where I was sitting. "Excuse me," he said, "but - are you anybody?" I don't know if he thought I was the TV weatherman or a politician, or what? "Uh, well," I stammered, "I'm a Methodist minister, if that counts." "Oh," he replied in a disappointed tone, returning to his table. Then I heard him say to his friend, "It's not him." Boy, a few of those will take the wind out of your sails. Sometimes we really have to work at being arrogant, but most of us can manage to be rude without much effort. However, Paul reminds us that either one is inconsistent with love.
Samuel Goldwyn often remarked, "I don't say that I'm always right, but I am never wrong." By our behavior, we frequently reflect the same attitude. "Insisting upon our own way" is so much a part of our nature that two of the most difficult things to say are, "I don't know," and "I'm sorry." Someone coined the popular phrase, "Love means never having to say I'm sorry." That is, at best, a half-truth. Love is what makes it possible for us to say "I'm sorry" in the first place. Love can be wrong without being irritable, resentful, or defensive. Love can be right without being arrogant or rude. Right or wrong, according to Paul, without love, we are nothing.
It does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. (verse 6)
At numerous times during recovery operations, authorities in a flood-stricken city were forced to request that curious onlookers refrain from coming into the area devastated by the damaging waters. Tragedy attracts a crowd. We witnessed it not long ago when the streets of our city became crowded with automobiles carrying persons coming to view the aftermath of a tornado. Strangely, we chase fire trucks, police cars, and emergency vehicles. Perhaps for the same reason, we are attracted by, and often pursue, gossip, particularly if it is "juicy." It is always revealing to observe a person's expression while he or she is passing on the latest tidbit. Frequently, it is reported in an almost delightful manner. Paul reminds us that love does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. That which seeks to discover only the bad or distasteful has bade farewell to love long ago. The critic, forever scrutinizing for mistakes, rejoices in that which is wrong. Genuinely constructive criticism is only possible with a third eye, the eye of love. And even then, it must focus for the other two.
Someone once complained about the thorns on a rosebush. Someone else remarked, "Yes, but isn't it wonderful that thorn bushes have roses." It is a shame that twenty-twenty vision is often distorted by a sorry attitude. Such a waste of perfect vision. Love not only looks beyond the thorns to see the roses, but - rejoices at the fragrance.
Love bears all things, believes all things, endures all things. (verse 7)
Notice that the words "all things" comprise most of the words in this sentence, as if to convey that love is literally an all-inclusive attitude. When love is at the center of life, every experience and circumstance achieves a new dimension.
Bears all Things. The story is told of an elderly woman whose life had been spent in the pursuit of every conceivable pleasure within the grasp of human desire. In the autumn of her life, she had come to know Christ and accept him as her savior. The radical change in her life, characterized by the kind, patient manner in which she attended everyday affairs, frequently irritated some of those who sought to mock her as a new Christian. Hatefully, a cutting voice lashed out, "You're just an ugly old woman." Softly came the reply, "Yes, I know that, but isn't it wonderful that God can love an ugly old woman like me?" Retaliation is a regression to the "law of the pack." Jesus inaugurated a new law, the law of love, which does not force one to bear the unbearable, but rather enables one to bear all things.
Believes all Things. No starry-eyed dreaming here, but instead, believing in the high and noble because of high expectations. A boy may believe his father knows all things, or a girl may believe her mother is able to do all things, because they trust them, have confidence in them, and have the assurance that the parent, in "all things," has their best interest at heart. The Christian believes that "all things" work together for good for those who love God.
Hopes all Things. We hope the best for our children - good grades, good associates, good
education, a happy life. But we do more than hope. We sit up nights with them to study, put aside money for college, and enter into contracts and arrangements to make whatever provision necessary for the benefit of those we love. Genuine hope is not a wistful dream. It is aggressively engaged in fulfilling an act of love. It will undertake "all things" if necessary.
Endures all Things. It may be sitting in foul weather to watch your son play in a football game, sacrificing the nicer things in life to put your spouse through college, being "passed over" by a promotion because you refuse to uproot your family and move to another community; it may be any number of things which otherwise would not even be considered.
Christ is all things to all people because his name is love. His life and ministry are the supreme example of the embodiment of 1 Corinthians 13:7. Through him, we are able to do "all things."
Love never ends; as for prophecy, it will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. (verse 8)
Paul makes his point in the first three words, "Love never ends." It is a built-in principle of the universe that things of the world will "pass away." We know it is true of material things, but Paul reminds us that other things are subject to the same process, even those things which were considered in Paul's day as "gifts of the Spirit" - prophecy, tongues, and knowledge.
Prophecy. Genuine prophecies will be fulfilled. The very pronouncement of a prophecy assumes there will be a fulfillment, and when the matter has been accomplished, the prophecy has passed away. Even a prophecy, says Paul, does not last forever, but is a temporary gift of the Spirit. Its content is usually short-lived and "passes away" because of completion.
Tongues. The gift of tongues experienced at Pentecost was an occasion when "each understood in his own tongue." It was clearly a time when foreign languages were spoken by those possessed by the Spirit, for the purpose of evangelization. However, even this special dispensation was but a unique, temporary visitation of the Spirit. This doesn't mean that it did not, or could not happen again, but rather such a highly-charged experience does not possess an individual permanently. The "tongues" experienced by new Christians following Pentecost is distinguished as a different type of utterance. It, unlike the evangelistic "tongues speaking" on the day of Pentecost, is best described as "incoherent babbling" resulting from an ecstatic experience. Paul said tongues will "cease."
Knowledge. Knowledge is elusive. Some of it changes, and some of it we simply forget. An educator remarked once that by the time a science textbook is published, much of its content is already obsolete. Governments admit that by the time a new defense weapon is produced, it is inferior to the ones on the drawing board being built to counter it. "Knowledge" passes away, frequently before we have had the chance to comprehend it.
Love, on the other hand, never ends. Nothing can sever it, as Paul assured the Christians in Rome, "For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38, 39)
For our knowledge is imperfect, and our prophecy is imperfect. (verse 9)
In one of William Barclay's New Testament commentaries, he relates some of the reasons early Christians were considered to be suspicious and clandestine. Their talk of the Kingdom of God was frequently misinterpreted by those in high places as a conspiracy to overthrow the government and establish a new earthly kingdom. The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper included the phrases, "This is my body, take and eat," and "This is my blood," which led the uniformed to charge the Christian community with, of all things, cannibalism. There were, of course, many other curious, reckless accusations hurled at the early Church, the majority of which stemmed from nothing more than misunderstanding. Such serves to show that knowledge is a good thing, but partial knowledge is sometimes little better than no knowledge at all. Any knowledge is always imperfect for it never encompasses "everything" there is to know.
Technically, prophecy contains two functions. The most obvious is that prophecy is "fore-telling." It is a common mistake to assume that this is the whole of it. However, prophecy also includes a "telling forth." Proclamation, or in plain English, "preaching," is just as important as predicting events for the future. In this sense, then, ANYONE who speaks forth the Word of God is a prophet. And the prophecy uttered by the human tongue is always imperfect inasmuch as it never "tells forth" all there is to tell. Jonah, with his prejudiced condemnation of Ninevah is a good example. He was an eloquent spokesman about the wrath of God, but a sorry messenger of God's love. He told forth only what he knew, but he didn't know the whole story.
Paul said it is a good thing to possess knowledge and prophecy, but it is a far better thing to possess love. We often speak of God as all knowing, and frequently speak of God as revealed through prophecy. However, our definition of God is reduced most commonly to three words: GOD IS LOVE. It is the perfect article.
But when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (verse 1O)
There was a time in history when learned men insisted the world was square. Mariners were careful not to venture beyond charted areas for fear of dropping over the earth's edge. Available knowledge supported the belief that the earth was flat and human activity should be confined to the area bounded by the four corners. The ancients also commonly held that sickness, in any form, was due to the ingestation of demons or evil spirits. However, both of these primitive beliefs have long since "passed away" because of a more "perfect knowledge."
Paul assured the Corinthian Christians that there is a more perfect knowledge than that which they possessed, no matter how high or noble they conceived it to be. There is a higher knowing, and more than that, there is something higher than knowing. When the love ol Christ comes into a person's life, Paul claimed, the imperfect substitutes for love we have gathered about us will pass away as insignificant. It is the nature of earthly things to pass away:
For everything there is a season, and a time for
every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)
There is a time for all things, and on this side of eternity, all things temporal are imperfect and shall pass away.
The Egyptians constructed in excess of seventy pyramids between 2700 B.C.-2200 B.C. The largest, built by Khufu, was 480 feet high, occupied 748 square feet, and contained 2,300,000 blocks weighing two and a half tons each. Impressive even by today's standards. But it too, shall pass away.
The Taj Mahal has been called the most beautifully perfect building in the world. Built in 1646 by Shah Jahan in memory of his recently deceased wife, Mumtaz-i-Mahal, it was the culmination of seventeen years labor by a task force of 20,000. And yet, even the "most beautifully perfect building in the world" will one day pass away.
God's love for what he has made is perfect and will not pass away. The Bible instructs us to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That is perfect knowledge. And now that the perfect has come, God expects that the imperfect should pass away.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up my childish ways: (verse 11)
Let us not lose sight of the fact that the object of the entire thirteenth chapter is love. It is the object of this passage, as love and immaturity are contrasted.
Spoke like a child. The reference here is not necessarily to "baby-talk" or the "golly-gee" naiveness of children. More likely, childish attitude is implied: This is my doll," "I want so-and-so," "Let me be first," ... The person who persistently speaks of "my," "mine," and "I" speaks as a child, in a vocabulary more indicative of the sandbox or playground than the social crucible which so intimately involves the "we."
Thought like a child. There is much about child-thought that unfortunately, we outgrow; quick forgiving, sudden loving, trusting, enthusiasm. But there are other characteristtcs of thought which normally are surrendered with age. One is the matter of pretending. A fascinating thing about child-play is that when children pretend to be an athlete, or spaceman, or hero, they do not merely take the name of the champion; they literally become the particular object of play. Have you watched children playing "cars?" As the car is pushed deliberately along, there is the unmistakable sound of "ud-en, ud-en." A child can be many things, even a car. Occasionally, this particular exercise survives into adulthood. Some of us pretend to be someone we are not; that is a masquerade. Some of us pretend to be more than we are, entertaining delusions of grandeur. Some of us are different people at different times, not unlike a chameleon. We maintain the childhood game of pretending in an adult world. Love cannot do its work in league with the artificial.
Reasoned like a child. Children frequently "make up" rules for a game as the game progresses. The rules may be changed, altered, or forgotten. What is worse, if the game does not go to suit someone, he may promptly "take his glove and go home." Such reasoning is correctly viewed as immature and inconsiderate in adult affairs. Things do not always go to suit us, but remarkably, life goes on. Regard for the other fellow is the overture to love.
Paul said that a person should be prepared to "give up some childish things" in order to gain some other things, for without love, "I gain nothing."
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. (verse 12)
Such mirrors as Paul had in mind were made of highly polished metal, usually of silver or bronze. I have read that Egyptian women poured water upon the metal to achieve a clearer reflection. However, ancient mirrors, with or without water, produced only a dim image.
Paul claims that even our best conceptions of God are but poor, distorted images, for we do not possess God's mind. To be sure, we have clues to his nature and purpose, but what we know of God frequently drives us to some basic speculation or personal interpretation. We discover images of God through his word, the message of the writing prophets, the saints of the Church, the life and ministry of our Lord, and the lives of dedicated Christians. And yet, the presence of so many different denominations and systems of belief is a constant reminder that we have not always agreed on the image reflected.
None of us has the full truth. With Paul, we are obliged to confess, "Now I know in part." An old gospel hymn, which we seldom sing anymore, paraphrases Paul's statement in everyday language:
Tempted and tried, we're oft made to wonder,
why it should be thus all the day long,
while there are others living about us,
never molested, though in the wrong.
Farther along, we'll know all about it,
Farther along, we'll understand why.
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine,
we'll understand it all by and by*
(* Farther Along, Rev. W. B. Stevens, arrangement by J. R. Baxter, Jr.; The Stamps-Baxter Music Company, 1937.)
In this same letter to the Corinthians, Paul frequently refers to humanity's "imperfect knowledge," and in 8:2, 3, says, "And if any man imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know. But if one loves God, one is known by Him." There are things we do not know which we shall understand fully "by and by." But there are some things we do know for which God holds us accountable now. For example, it is His will that "ye love one another."
"So faith, hope, love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love." (verse 13)
As we come now to the final verse, we see that verse 13 is actually the epilogue for the preceding twelve verses.
The power of love addresses us in numerous ways. Among others, (1) Love traverses distances. It has been reported by one of our news services that a man and his wife moved from Montrose Colorado, back to their former home in Santee, California, a distance of 840 miles. Before moving, they sold their dog "Sam." Several weeks later, the couple was surprised when "Sam" showed up at their door in Santee, his paws sore, his body skinny and covered with grease. Of course, "Sam" has a built-in "homing" device, as do other creatures of his kind, but that was not what made the incredible trip possible. The motivation behind the effort was love. Love enabled him to utilize the device, making it possible for him to span a great distance. The orbit widens. The Prodigal, or "lost" son draws within sight of his father's house, but there is yet a considerable distance to be accomplished between them; (1) the distance between taxed emotions and relief, (b) the distance between disappointment and joy, (c) the distance between reprimand and embrace, and (d) the distance of sheer space separating them. The Prodigal eliminated half the distances by returning to his father's house. The father eliminated the other half by "running" out to meet him, throwing his arms about his neck and weeping for joy in the kind of deep, choking sob which renders us speechless until it decides to give us back to ourselves. Love traverses distances. It spanned the great distance from yonder somewhere in God's own time to cause the Word "there" to become flesh "here." It motivated our Lord from the Jordan to the desert, from the desert to Capernaum, from Capernaum to the seaside, the mountaintops, the crowded streets and dusty country roads, from Galilee to Jerusalem, from Betrayal to Calvary, and from Calvary to the Day of Resurrection. God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. Love traverses distances.
(2) Love creates security. The story is told of a woman who marched down a city street brandishing a torch in one hand and carrying a bucket of water in the other. She explained that she wanted to use the water to put out the fires of hell and the torch to burn up heaven. Then, she reasoned, people "could love the dear Lord God for himself alone and not out of the fear of hell or out of craving for reward." Crude sensationalism? Yes, but it does have a bit of merit. To name God's name simply to "escape" hell-fire and brimstone is a placebo devotion (and to "fear" God means literally to "obey"). On the other hand, to name his name just to gain a reward is a self-seeking enterprise of the first water. The Bible teaches us to love God because he first loved us and because he is like a father to his children. Love creates security, not fear, and seeks no other reward except the object of its devotion.
(3) Love transforms. I have a minister friend who was taken prisoner by the Japanese during the war and placed in a concentration camp. With others, he was regularly mistreated and abused. One of the guards, excessively brutal, once struck him in the head with a rifle butt. Following the war, my friend had the occasion to administer the Sacrament of Holy Communion to a group of Japanese Christians. As he made his way down the chancel serving, he stopped abruptly. Kneeling before him was the man who had struck him some years before. They looked into each other's eyes, each recognizing the other. And then, in a moment which transcended them both, they embraced! Hate was no longer in their experience because the love of Christ was in them. There are those who will gladly testify that love transforms.
Paul said, "... but the greatest of these is love." Someday, perhaps our hearing of these words will result in our doing, and our doing, we pray God will be loving.
Read now the thirteen verses together and "make love your aim," remembering,
"Christianity is a Verb!"
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends; as for prophecy, it will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:1-13)
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. (verse 1)
A gong has always impressed me as an almost unnecessary instrument. Each time a musician slams into one with a mallet to achieve the dull, disconcerting clash, I fully expect a secret passage to appear, or an oriental servant to fawn onto the stage. Cymbals provide slightly more flexible, functional accents of emphasis. However, both the gong and the cymbal produce but a single monotonous tone which, if protracted, soon grows irritating. Paul, who obviously was not enchanted by either of them, simply noted that gongs are "noisy," and cymbals "clang." But he says more; eloquence without love is just so much noise.
Love energizes and creates. Love does the deed which indifference is never motivated to do. It translates words and emotions into action. Eloquence and silver-tongued oratory, from anyone's mouth, are poetic to listen to, but alas, after a while, sugar-coated elocution which does nothing becomes as irritating as a noisy gong or clanging cymbals.
Love even affects our vocabulary. For instance, love enables one to say things which otherwise might not have been said. Several years ago, an old minister was presiding over the last rites of one of his dear friends. The deceased was a long-time fishing companion of the minister and was known to all as a rather colorful character. The old minister began, "Jim was a loud-mouthed, windy, obnoxious old man ..." I almost fell out of the pew, but soon noticed that the minister had a tear in his eye, and the memories of years and years of friendship lodged in his throat. He could say that about his friend because he loved him, and everyone knew it. Love creates its own eloquence.
And there are times when love is eloquently "unspoken." It may be mama pulling the cover to your chin in the middle of a chilly night, a hot meal, quietly prepared, and proudly set on the table, the button sewed on your shirt in such an unassuming manner that you forgot it had been missing in the first place, a game of pitch in the yard, or just a lap to sit in as a little voice reads a lesson aloud. Love doesn't have to say anything. And without it, perhaps it is better not to speak at all.
And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. (verse 2)
What could be greater than knowing what is going to happen, understanding everything that has already happened, and embracing an assurance that everything is going to be all right? Only one thing, according to Paul; to experience the joy of being loved is more desirable than the possession of knowledge, and the ability to express love is a thing surpassing wisdom. Without love, knowledge and discernment are likely to be misused.
Jonah was a prophet of sorts. From the moment he arrived in the sprawling Assyrian city of Ninevah, he knew what was going to happen. God had told him. Doom and destruction were impending, and the more he pronounced it, the more enthusiastic he became. He "knew what was going to happen," but the absence of love in his heart rendered him a useless vessel. And, as it turned out, when God reversed his judgment; Jonah didn't know as much as he thought
he did.
From all accounts, Saul of Tarsus was an exceptionally learned man. Having studied at the feet of Gamaliel, strengthened by his position and experience as a Pharisee, he is reputed to have been one of the most knowledgeable figures of New Testament times. He possessed an exceptionally keen mind and was exceedingly astute at grasping "things which had already happened." Likewise, we are told that the disciples were men of strong faith, although our Lord chided them from time to time for their self-centered efforts and attempts at showy display. To the man, Jonah, Saul, and the disciples, all of them, misused their gifts for purposes which were not intended.
I have read that one of humankind's handiest devices, the paper clip, is used more often than not for purposes other than clipping papers together. We are told that six percent are used for toothpicks, five percent as nail cleaners, seventeen percent as safety-pin substitutes, three percent as pipe cleaners, fourteen percent as something to be bent or broken while talking on the telephone, and only twenty percent end up being used to hold paper together. I used a couple the other day to fasten the glass in a gaslight.
Prophecy, faith, knowledge, and people all have intended uses. I wonder how many times they end up being used for the wrong reasons? Paul claimed that unless their aim is love, they count for nothing.
If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (verse 3)
A woman testified on the radio some time ago how God had blessed her life because she had contributed money to a certain radio preacher. She stated that although her contribution had been large, it was nothing compared to the money God had suddenly made available to her. In fact, she enthusiastically expressed her intent to give more because she knew her contribution would he multiplied in personal gain. Followed to its logical conclusion, such a practice would eventually lead one to conclude to give away everything with the assurance of being rewarded with more than one had in the first place. That is a sorry motive for giving. Particularly when we misunderstand the scriptures to imply that God has promised to make a "deal" with us which always pays larger dividends than our initial "investment." Giving something away for the sole purpose of being rewarded by a greater return is counterfeit generosity. The emphasis is upon the "reward," not the gift. Paul reminds me that it is possible to "give away" all we may have in pursuit of rewards, or fulfilling one's duty to the Church, or trying to stay on God's "good side," or "paying" our way to heaven, or for whatever reason; but unless the motivation is love (agape), we are actually gaining nothing. Agape includes giving without the slightest thought of receiving anything in return; it makes its gift for love's sake, careless of the gain.
The human personality is a complicated subject. From time to time we may encounter a personality obsessed by a "persecution complex" - always suffering and agonizing because of some injustice,
unfairness, or unfortunate incident. The fact is, such persons are not content unless they are suffering about something; their egos feed on it as a kind of "self-purge" or make them feel more Christ-like or holy (or something?). In a sense, they envision themselves bearing the sins of the whole world upon their shoulders, or at least, more than their share. The persecution complex moves easily into a "martyr complex" where one's ego takes the ultimate plunge. It may be suicide to "get back at someone," or "make a point," or someone setting fire to himself as a "rejection" of the world. A person may give his life for the wrong reasons. By contrast, early Christians were burned at the stake because of their love for God in Christ; they did not seek the stake, as our Lord did not seek the Cross. Polycarp, the great ancient churchman, so loved Christ that he sang hymns as the flames engulfed his body.
The meaning of a gift is not determined by its substance, but by its motivation. It does not count the gain, nor even consider the cost. It just loves.
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful. (verse 4)
Impatience is a polite form of arrogance. At its tactful best, it is but the ego-centered expression that "I don't have time for this," or "I will not spend my time in this manner." If impatience toward others is, in fact, haughtiness in disguise, impatience with oneself is self-inflicted insolence. Neither have regard for the other person and, instead of hastening understanding, proceed to stifle love's possibilities. Love knows how to wait. Where would we be had not some good teacher patiently presided over the first illegible markings of our stubby, little, undisciplined hands and notoriously short attention spans, while teaching us to write out the letters of our first awkward words? Oh, I suppose it is possible to teach another to write on the strength of sheer teaching skills and techniques alone, but love and patience warm the lesson. The coldest schoolmaster can teach us to copy words upon a page, but the patient, loving manner impresses words upon our hearts. Love knows how to wait and is patient. It is kind enough to allow time.
Jealousy is the hallmark of possessiveness. Where impatience says "my," jealousy says "mine." Jealousy does not love; it victimizes. It is intolerent of anything but absolute attention, always demanding some short-lived satisfaction for its chronic insecurity. It says, "tell me I am as beautiful as she is," or "my clothes are as attractive as so-and-so's," or "we may not have as much as they do, but they owe for everything they have," etc. Jealousy is never satisfied for it is never secure. It often occupies the house that love has moved from; the two cannot abide within the same breast at the same moment. By any name, romantic or otherwise, the concern of jealousy is with "I" instead of "Thou."
Boastfulness, as impatience and jealousy, is an ego malady. Unlike the frown, or heavy sigh, or leering eye, it is the verbal testimony of self-centeredness, self-praise. The old gag, saying, "Blessed is he who toots his own horn, for otherwise that horn shall not be tooted," contains some truth. However, there is a counter-saying which probably lays down the whole of it: "The man who sings his own praise invariably sings a solo unaccompanied." Proverb 27:2 states the matter bluntly: "Let another man praise you, and not with your own mouth."
Plainly, according to Paul, love reverses the ego. The ego perverts love, and self-love is the supreme perversion.
It is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. (verse 5)
Life has its share of humbling experiences. They are necessary, I suppose, to remind us of our humanity. Enrico Caruso, the great tenor, was once traveling alone in the country when his car broke down. A farmer passed by, drove him into town to summon a mechanic, then took him home for lunch while the car was being repaired. Following the meal, Caruso arose and, as a gesture of thanks, sang for the farmer and his wife. When the farmer asked his name, the famous singer replied with a swagger, "Caruso." "Lord! Think of that," the farmer gasped. "I've read about you for years." Caruso was mightily impressed. "And to think you've been here ... and you've sung right here in this kitchen! Caruso, the great, the famous traveler ... Robinson Caruso!" Some people make it terribly difficult for us to be arrogant, don't they? I was in a restaurant once and noticed the couple at a nearby table regularly glancing in my direction. After about ten minutes of curious stares and muffled comments, one of them came over to where I was sitting. "Excuse me," he said, "but - are you anybody?" I don't know if he thought I was the TV weatherman or a politician, or what? "Uh, well," I stammered, "I'm a Methodist minister, if that counts." "Oh," he replied in a disappointed tone, returning to his table. Then I heard him say to his friend, "It's not him." Boy, a few of those will take the wind out of your sails. Sometimes we really have to work at being arrogant, but most of us can manage to be rude without much effort. However, Paul reminds us that either one is inconsistent with love.
Samuel Goldwyn often remarked, "I don't say that I'm always right, but I am never wrong." By our behavior, we frequently reflect the same attitude. "Insisting upon our own way" is so much a part of our nature that two of the most difficult things to say are, "I don't know," and "I'm sorry." Someone coined the popular phrase, "Love means never having to say I'm sorry." That is, at best, a half-truth. Love is what makes it possible for us to say "I'm sorry" in the first place. Love can be wrong without being irritable, resentful, or defensive. Love can be right without being arrogant or rude. Right or wrong, according to Paul, without love, we are nothing.
It does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. (verse 6)
At numerous times during recovery operations, authorities in a flood-stricken city were forced to request that curious onlookers refrain from coming into the area devastated by the damaging waters. Tragedy attracts a crowd. We witnessed it not long ago when the streets of our city became crowded with automobiles carrying persons coming to view the aftermath of a tornado. Strangely, we chase fire trucks, police cars, and emergency vehicles. Perhaps for the same reason, we are attracted by, and often pursue, gossip, particularly if it is "juicy." It is always revealing to observe a person's expression while he or she is passing on the latest tidbit. Frequently, it is reported in an almost delightful manner. Paul reminds us that love does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. That which seeks to discover only the bad or distasteful has bade farewell to love long ago. The critic, forever scrutinizing for mistakes, rejoices in that which is wrong. Genuinely constructive criticism is only possible with a third eye, the eye of love. And even then, it must focus for the other two.
Someone once complained about the thorns on a rosebush. Someone else remarked, "Yes, but isn't it wonderful that thorn bushes have roses." It is a shame that twenty-twenty vision is often distorted by a sorry attitude. Such a waste of perfect vision. Love not only looks beyond the thorns to see the roses, but - rejoices at the fragrance.
Love bears all things, believes all things, endures all things. (verse 7)
Notice that the words "all things" comprise most of the words in this sentence, as if to convey that love is literally an all-inclusive attitude. When love is at the center of life, every experience and circumstance achieves a new dimension.
Bears all Things. The story is told of an elderly woman whose life had been spent in the pursuit of every conceivable pleasure within the grasp of human desire. In the autumn of her life, she had come to know Christ and accept him as her savior. The radical change in her life, characterized by the kind, patient manner in which she attended everyday affairs, frequently irritated some of those who sought to mock her as a new Christian. Hatefully, a cutting voice lashed out, "You're just an ugly old woman." Softly came the reply, "Yes, I know that, but isn't it wonderful that God can love an ugly old woman like me?" Retaliation is a regression to the "law of the pack." Jesus inaugurated a new law, the law of love, which does not force one to bear the unbearable, but rather enables one to bear all things.
Believes all Things. No starry-eyed dreaming here, but instead, believing in the high and noble because of high expectations. A boy may believe his father knows all things, or a girl may believe her mother is able to do all things, because they trust them, have confidence in them, and have the assurance that the parent, in "all things," has their best interest at heart. The Christian believes that "all things" work together for good for those who love God.
Hopes all Things. We hope the best for our children - good grades, good associates, good
education, a happy life. But we do more than hope. We sit up nights with them to study, put aside money for college, and enter into contracts and arrangements to make whatever provision necessary for the benefit of those we love. Genuine hope is not a wistful dream. It is aggressively engaged in fulfilling an act of love. It will undertake "all things" if necessary.
Endures all Things. It may be sitting in foul weather to watch your son play in a football game, sacrificing the nicer things in life to put your spouse through college, being "passed over" by a promotion because you refuse to uproot your family and move to another community; it may be any number of things which otherwise would not even be considered.
Christ is all things to all people because his name is love. His life and ministry are the supreme example of the embodiment of 1 Corinthians 13:7. Through him, we are able to do "all things."
Love never ends; as for prophecy, it will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. (verse 8)
Paul makes his point in the first three words, "Love never ends." It is a built-in principle of the universe that things of the world will "pass away." We know it is true of material things, but Paul reminds us that other things are subject to the same process, even those things which were considered in Paul's day as "gifts of the Spirit" - prophecy, tongues, and knowledge.
Prophecy. Genuine prophecies will be fulfilled. The very pronouncement of a prophecy assumes there will be a fulfillment, and when the matter has been accomplished, the prophecy has passed away. Even a prophecy, says Paul, does not last forever, but is a temporary gift of the Spirit. Its content is usually short-lived and "passes away" because of completion.
Tongues. The gift of tongues experienced at Pentecost was an occasion when "each understood in his own tongue." It was clearly a time when foreign languages were spoken by those possessed by the Spirit, for the purpose of evangelization. However, even this special dispensation was but a unique, temporary visitation of the Spirit. This doesn't mean that it did not, or could not happen again, but rather such a highly-charged experience does not possess an individual permanently. The "tongues" experienced by new Christians following Pentecost is distinguished as a different type of utterance. It, unlike the evangelistic "tongues speaking" on the day of Pentecost, is best described as "incoherent babbling" resulting from an ecstatic experience. Paul said tongues will "cease."
Knowledge. Knowledge is elusive. Some of it changes, and some of it we simply forget. An educator remarked once that by the time a science textbook is published, much of its content is already obsolete. Governments admit that by the time a new defense weapon is produced, it is inferior to the ones on the drawing board being built to counter it. "Knowledge" passes away, frequently before we have had the chance to comprehend it.
Love, on the other hand, never ends. Nothing can sever it, as Paul assured the Christians in Rome, "For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38, 39)
For our knowledge is imperfect, and our prophecy is imperfect. (verse 9)
In one of William Barclay's New Testament commentaries, he relates some of the reasons early Christians were considered to be suspicious and clandestine. Their talk of the Kingdom of God was frequently misinterpreted by those in high places as a conspiracy to overthrow the government and establish a new earthly kingdom. The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper included the phrases, "This is my body, take and eat," and "This is my blood," which led the uniformed to charge the Christian community with, of all things, cannibalism. There were, of course, many other curious, reckless accusations hurled at the early Church, the majority of which stemmed from nothing more than misunderstanding. Such serves to show that knowledge is a good thing, but partial knowledge is sometimes little better than no knowledge at all. Any knowledge is always imperfect for it never encompasses "everything" there is to know.
Technically, prophecy contains two functions. The most obvious is that prophecy is "fore-telling." It is a common mistake to assume that this is the whole of it. However, prophecy also includes a "telling forth." Proclamation, or in plain English, "preaching," is just as important as predicting events for the future. In this sense, then, ANYONE who speaks forth the Word of God is a prophet. And the prophecy uttered by the human tongue is always imperfect inasmuch as it never "tells forth" all there is to tell. Jonah, with his prejudiced condemnation of Ninevah is a good example. He was an eloquent spokesman about the wrath of God, but a sorry messenger of God's love. He told forth only what he knew, but he didn't know the whole story.
Paul said it is a good thing to possess knowledge and prophecy, but it is a far better thing to possess love. We often speak of God as all knowing, and frequently speak of God as revealed through prophecy. However, our definition of God is reduced most commonly to three words: GOD IS LOVE. It is the perfect article.
But when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. (verse 1O)
There was a time in history when learned men insisted the world was square. Mariners were careful not to venture beyond charted areas for fear of dropping over the earth's edge. Available knowledge supported the belief that the earth was flat and human activity should be confined to the area bounded by the four corners. The ancients also commonly held that sickness, in any form, was due to the ingestation of demons or evil spirits. However, both of these primitive beliefs have long since "passed away" because of a more "perfect knowledge."
Paul assured the Corinthian Christians that there is a more perfect knowledge than that which they possessed, no matter how high or noble they conceived it to be. There is a higher knowing, and more than that, there is something higher than knowing. When the love ol Christ comes into a person's life, Paul claimed, the imperfect substitutes for love we have gathered about us will pass away as insignificant. It is the nature of earthly things to pass away:
For everything there is a season, and a time for
every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)
There is a time for all things, and on this side of eternity, all things temporal are imperfect and shall pass away.
The Egyptians constructed in excess of seventy pyramids between 2700 B.C.-2200 B.C. The largest, built by Khufu, was 480 feet high, occupied 748 square feet, and contained 2,300,000 blocks weighing two and a half tons each. Impressive even by today's standards. But it too, shall pass away.
The Taj Mahal has been called the most beautifully perfect building in the world. Built in 1646 by Shah Jahan in memory of his recently deceased wife, Mumtaz-i-Mahal, it was the culmination of seventeen years labor by a task force of 20,000. And yet, even the "most beautifully perfect building in the world" will one day pass away.
God's love for what he has made is perfect and will not pass away. The Bible instructs us to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That is perfect knowledge. And now that the perfect has come, God expects that the imperfect should pass away.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up my childish ways: (verse 11)
Let us not lose sight of the fact that the object of the entire thirteenth chapter is love. It is the object of this passage, as love and immaturity are contrasted.
Spoke like a child. The reference here is not necessarily to "baby-talk" or the "golly-gee" naiveness of children. More likely, childish attitude is implied: This is my doll," "I want so-and-so," "Let me be first," ... The person who persistently speaks of "my," "mine," and "I" speaks as a child, in a vocabulary more indicative of the sandbox or playground than the social crucible which so intimately involves the "we."
Thought like a child. There is much about child-thought that unfortunately, we outgrow; quick forgiving, sudden loving, trusting, enthusiasm. But there are other characteristtcs of thought which normally are surrendered with age. One is the matter of pretending. A fascinating thing about child-play is that when children pretend to be an athlete, or spaceman, or hero, they do not merely take the name of the champion; they literally become the particular object of play. Have you watched children playing "cars?" As the car is pushed deliberately along, there is the unmistakable sound of "ud-en, ud-en." A child can be many things, even a car. Occasionally, this particular exercise survives into adulthood. Some of us pretend to be someone we are not; that is a masquerade. Some of us pretend to be more than we are, entertaining delusions of grandeur. Some of us are different people at different times, not unlike a chameleon. We maintain the childhood game of pretending in an adult world. Love cannot do its work in league with the artificial.
Reasoned like a child. Children frequently "make up" rules for a game as the game progresses. The rules may be changed, altered, or forgotten. What is worse, if the game does not go to suit someone, he may promptly "take his glove and go home." Such reasoning is correctly viewed as immature and inconsiderate in adult affairs. Things do not always go to suit us, but remarkably, life goes on. Regard for the other fellow is the overture to love.
Paul said that a person should be prepared to "give up some childish things" in order to gain some other things, for without love, "I gain nothing."
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. (verse 12)
Such mirrors as Paul had in mind were made of highly polished metal, usually of silver or bronze. I have read that Egyptian women poured water upon the metal to achieve a clearer reflection. However, ancient mirrors, with or without water, produced only a dim image.
Paul claims that even our best conceptions of God are but poor, distorted images, for we do not possess God's mind. To be sure, we have clues to his nature and purpose, but what we know of God frequently drives us to some basic speculation or personal interpretation. We discover images of God through his word, the message of the writing prophets, the saints of the Church, the life and ministry of our Lord, and the lives of dedicated Christians. And yet, the presence of so many different denominations and systems of belief is a constant reminder that we have not always agreed on the image reflected.
None of us has the full truth. With Paul, we are obliged to confess, "Now I know in part." An old gospel hymn, which we seldom sing anymore, paraphrases Paul's statement in everyday language:
Tempted and tried, we're oft made to wonder,
why it should be thus all the day long,
while there are others living about us,
never molested, though in the wrong.
Farther along, we'll know all about it,
Farther along, we'll understand why.
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine,
we'll understand it all by and by*
(* Farther Along, Rev. W. B. Stevens, arrangement by J. R. Baxter, Jr.; The Stamps-Baxter Music Company, 1937.)
In this same letter to the Corinthians, Paul frequently refers to humanity's "imperfect knowledge," and in 8:2, 3, says, "And if any man imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know. But if one loves God, one is known by Him." There are things we do not know which we shall understand fully "by and by." But there are some things we do know for which God holds us accountable now. For example, it is His will that "ye love one another."
"So faith, hope, love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love." (verse 13)
As we come now to the final verse, we see that verse 13 is actually the epilogue for the preceding twelve verses.
The power of love addresses us in numerous ways. Among others, (1) Love traverses distances. It has been reported by one of our news services that a man and his wife moved from Montrose Colorado, back to their former home in Santee, California, a distance of 840 miles. Before moving, they sold their dog "Sam." Several weeks later, the couple was surprised when "Sam" showed up at their door in Santee, his paws sore, his body skinny and covered with grease. Of course, "Sam" has a built-in "homing" device, as do other creatures of his kind, but that was not what made the incredible trip possible. The motivation behind the effort was love. Love enabled him to utilize the device, making it possible for him to span a great distance. The orbit widens. The Prodigal, or "lost" son draws within sight of his father's house, but there is yet a considerable distance to be accomplished between them; (1) the distance between taxed emotions and relief, (b) the distance between disappointment and joy, (c) the distance between reprimand and embrace, and (d) the distance of sheer space separating them. The Prodigal eliminated half the distances by returning to his father's house. The father eliminated the other half by "running" out to meet him, throwing his arms about his neck and weeping for joy in the kind of deep, choking sob which renders us speechless until it decides to give us back to ourselves. Love traverses distances. It spanned the great distance from yonder somewhere in God's own time to cause the Word "there" to become flesh "here." It motivated our Lord from the Jordan to the desert, from the desert to Capernaum, from Capernaum to the seaside, the mountaintops, the crowded streets and dusty country roads, from Galilee to Jerusalem, from Betrayal to Calvary, and from Calvary to the Day of Resurrection. God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. Love traverses distances.
(2) Love creates security. The story is told of a woman who marched down a city street brandishing a torch in one hand and carrying a bucket of water in the other. She explained that she wanted to use the water to put out the fires of hell and the torch to burn up heaven. Then, she reasoned, people "could love the dear Lord God for himself alone and not out of the fear of hell or out of craving for reward." Crude sensationalism? Yes, but it does have a bit of merit. To name God's name simply to "escape" hell-fire and brimstone is a placebo devotion (and to "fear" God means literally to "obey"). On the other hand, to name his name just to gain a reward is a self-seeking enterprise of the first water. The Bible teaches us to love God because he first loved us and because he is like a father to his children. Love creates security, not fear, and seeks no other reward except the object of its devotion.
(3) Love transforms. I have a minister friend who was taken prisoner by the Japanese during the war and placed in a concentration camp. With others, he was regularly mistreated and abused. One of the guards, excessively brutal, once struck him in the head with a rifle butt. Following the war, my friend had the occasion to administer the Sacrament of Holy Communion to a group of Japanese Christians. As he made his way down the chancel serving, he stopped abruptly. Kneeling before him was the man who had struck him some years before. They looked into each other's eyes, each recognizing the other. And then, in a moment which transcended them both, they embraced! Hate was no longer in their experience because the love of Christ was in them. There are those who will gladly testify that love transforms.
Paul said, "... but the greatest of these is love." Someday, perhaps our hearing of these words will result in our doing, and our doing, we pray God will be loving.
Read now the thirteen verses together and "make love your aim," remembering,
"Christianity is a Verb!"
