Stronger than God? (1 Corinthians 9.24-10.22)
Is it a sin to take a selfie? This question isn't as straightforward as it would seem.
For example, you're at a park with your friends or your family—or maybe you're just by yourself. You're having a good time and you decide to take a selfie with everyone and the beautiful park in the background. This is a completely morally neutral act. Nothing wrong with it at all.
But let's say you're at a war memorial. There are people all over the place. Maybe someone next to you has a grandfather who died in the war. The same act, the same morally neutral act—taking a picture—is entirely inappropriate in a context like that.
Obviously, the point is that the question "Is it wrong to take a picture?" doesn't have a simple yes or no answer. It requires a bit of nuance, a bit of context, before you can arrive at an answer.
The same thing is true with the Corinthians’ question in chapters 8-10.
In case you weren’t here: In chapter 8, Paul brings up a situation the Corinthians are struggling with: that of eating meat offered to idols. The reason why this was an important question for the Corinthians was because much of the social activity in the life of Corinth at the time happened in pagan temples. If they went to a birthday party or a wedding or something like that, they would often be invited into a pagan temple to eat, and the meat they ate would have been sacrificed to idols.
So the question was, "Is it okay to eat this meat?"
It's a simple question, and on the one hand, the answers seem similar to the answer to the question: "Is it wrong to take a photo?" Paul said in chapter 8 that eating meat, even meat offered to idols, is in principle a morally neutral act, because there is only one God, and one Lord, Jesus Christ; idols are nothing.
But the full answer to the question must be nuanced than that, because context is key. That's why Paul has taken three chapters to fully work through the question.
The first reason why it’s not as simple as “Yes” or “No” is that our love for our brothers and sisters in Christ may require us to abstain from the thing we technically have the right to do. A less knowledgeable brother or sister in Christ might see a more mature Christian eating this meat and be tripped up in their own conscience over whether or not they should join in. So Paul said that to protect the conscience of their weaker brother or sister, the Christians in Corinth should abstain. And they should do this happily, because for the Christian, the most important thing isn't our rights but the communication and reception of the gospel.
That was the main point behind his argument in chapters 8 and 9.
If the first reason to not eat this meat is love for our brothers and sisters in Christ, the second reason he gives here in chapter 10 is allegiance to God.
And that is what is at stake in today’s passage.
The Stakes of Discipline (9.24-27)
So let’s get into it. If you remember, Paul has just gone through the numerous rights he has been willing to give up in order for the gospel message to be presented free from obstacles—from his decision to not receive a salary for his ministry all the way down to the way he speaks to others.
And he continues in v. 24:
24 Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. 25 Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. 26 So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. 27 But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.
Paul uses the image of an athlete. Everyone in Corinth would have understood this image, because Corinth hosted the Isthmian Games, one of the major athletic competitions of the ancient world. Paul’s point when he says “only one runner receives the prize” is obviously not that only one Christian will be saved. His point is that the Christian life requires the seriousness of an athlete who actually wants to win.
Alex Honnold is probably the most famous climber in the world; he free-soloed a 900-meter granite wall on El Capitan in 2017, without ropes. So one mistake, one fall, and he dies. The film Free Solo chronicles his road to make that climb. And what you see in the film is that Alex trained on that wall for years before even attempting to climb it without a rope. He climbed it thousands of times, memorizing every move, every crack, every hold. To put is as he did, by the time he’s finished training, the consequence of falling is very high, but the risk of falling is very low, because he’s so disciplined and prepared. It’s incredible to watch because even though what he’s doing is insane, he’s so disciplined and so well-trained that he does it effortlessly, as if it were nothing.
That’s the sort of determined discipline Paul is referring to here. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things—and they do it to receive a wreath. When the stakes are higher, you’ll work all the more diligently to make sure every aspect is under your control. And the stakes for a Christian are far higher than a wreath—the stakes for us are eternal life with Christ for ourselves and for others. So we will work very hard to diligently persevere in obedience.
This is devastating for the Corinthian idea of freedom.
They seem to think freedom means: “I can do what I want because I know the truth.”
Paul says: No. Christian freedom means you are free from sin, free from idols, free from self-rule, and free to discipline yourself for Christ. A person who cannot say “no” is not free.
And Paul wants to be clear that he himself says “no” all the time. “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”
I don’t believe Paul is actually worried he’ll be disqualified, because he has full assurance in the finished work of Christ for him. What Paul is afraid of is becoming presumptuous in his own assurance.
That is different.
Presumption says: “I know the gospel, so I can play with temptation.” Faith says: “I know the gospel, so I will take sin very seriously.”
Paul is an apostle. He planted churches. He preached Christ. And yet he says, “I discipline myself.”
So here is the first warning: If Paul does not trust himself with sin, neither should we. The prize we are after is eternal, and the alternative is disqualification.
The Danger of Spiritual Presumption (10.1-13)
As an example of what this looks like, Paul takes us on a walk down memory lane, through the history of the people of Israel. This is not a random Old Testament illustration. Paul is showing the Corinthians that God’s people have faced this danger before.
10.1:
For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, 2 and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, 3 and all ate the same spiritual food, 4 and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ.
Israel had extraordinary spiritual privileges.
They were rescued from slavery in Egypt and given a new identity as God’s covenant people (this is why Paul refers to their rescue at the Red Sea “under the cloud and in the sea” as a sort of baptism that Moses led them through).
They had spiritual food that God provided when they were hungry, spiritual drink God provided when they were thirsty.
They had the continual presence and provision of God.
And (v. 5):
5 Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness. 6 Now these things took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did. 7 Do not be idolaters as some of them were; as it is written, “The people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play.” 8 We must not indulge in sexual immorality as some of them did, and twenty-three thousand fell in a single day. 9 We must not put Christ to the test, as some of them did and were destroyed by serpents, 10 nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer. 11 Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come.
Israel had every outward advantage. And, Paul says to the church, so do you.
You have baptism.
You have the Lord’s Supper.
You have knowledge.
You have spiritual gifts.
You have apostolic teaching.
But do not assume that your Christian privileges make you immune to danger. The story of Israel in the wilderness shows us what spiritual decline often looks like:
1. Desire becomes disordered: “Do not desire evil as they did.”
2. Worship becomes compromised: “Do not be idolaters…”
3. The body becomes detached from holiness: “We must not indulge in sexual immorality…”
4. God’s patience is treated as permission: “We must not put Christ to the test…”
5. Grumbling replaces gratitude: “Nor grumble, as some of them did…”
You see, Paul isn’t just giving historical illustrations here. He’s describing the anatomy of spiritual collapse.
His point is simple: we as Christians have the assurance of our salvation, yes. But no amount of assurance makes sin safe. There is a point at which assurance can become warped into pride, and that is the point at which sin takes over. V. 12:
12 Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.
The Corinthians think they stand. They think they are mature. They think they are strong. They think they understand freedom. They think they can walk into idol temples and remain untouched.
Paul says they should be far more careful than that. Not because Christians should live in paranoia, but because pride blinds us to danger. The person most likely to fall is often the person who thinks, “That would never happen to me.”
I hesitated before bringing this up, but I know it’s been on a lot of people’s minds this week. Many of you heard about Sam Allberry, the well-known pastor and writer whose books we’ve recommended to you before. Sam became well-known for speaking about the fact that he has always struggled with same-sex attraction, and had committed to a life of celibacy in order to remain faithful to God.
Sam’s church released a statement this week saying that he had been disqualified from ministry after new information came to light about an inappropriate relationship he had had with another man. Sam is, they say, fully repentant and accepting of his disqualification. We want to keep the church and Sam himself in our prayers.
Obviously this news hit a lot of people hard, including myself. And I saw so many uncharitable comments online that drastically misrepresented Sam’s theology by oversimplifying a very complex question—a clickbait move which I want to avoid at all costs.
But I bring it up now because I think Paul’s recommendation in v. 12 makes it pertinent: “let anyone who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.” I think Sam himself would say that part of the danger in becoming well-known for being faithful in the midst of temptation is the danger of feeling like you’re immune to it. Which no one is, not even those we admire.
All that being said, Paul doesn’t end this section with despair. V. 13:
13 No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
This is one of the most difficult verses in the Bible for me to believe, because I can think of a thousand temptations I’ve had in my life which I felt woefully ill-equipped to handle. When Paul says that “God will not let you be tempted beyond your ability,” it may seem hopelessly naive or simply false.
But Paul is very careful with his words. He says that whatever temptation we are faced with, we will be able to resist it, not because that ability lies in ourselves, but rather because God will also provide the way of escape, that we may be able to endure it. There are a million temptations I cannot resist on my own—but is there a temptation I cannot resist with God’s help? No. And here we have the promise that God’s help is always present.
I hope you can see why this matters. Paul is not saying, “You are weak, so you are doomed to sin.” He is saying, “You are weak, so don’t presume on your own abilities—trust in God’s faithfulness, and discipline yourselves to obey him.”
The Illusion of Neutrality (10.14-22)
Why did Paul say all this? Because that is what is at stake in this question of “Can we eat meat sacrificed to idols?”. It’s not isolation from the social life of your city; it’s idolatry.
God provides a way of escape, yes. But notice—the way of escape is not a mysterious inner strength. Sometimes the way of escape is the exit door.
14 Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.
His language is clear and unambiguous. He doesn’t say, “Analyze idolatry,” or “flirt with idolatry,” or “manage idolatry”, or “prove how mature you are around idolatry.” He says: Flee.
Now it may be difficult to see why Paul is saying this, because the main question on the table wasn’t, “Can a Christian worship other gods?” The answer to that question is, of course, absolutely not, and no Christian could possibly imagine the answer is yes.
But the question the Corinthians are asking isn’t “Can we worship other gods?” but rather, “Can we eat meat sacrificed to idols?” And Paul has already said in chapter 8 that since an idol “has no real existence” and that “there is no God but one,” then a Christian is no better off if they don’t eat or if they do. That’s a theological argument, which we’ll see again in next week’s text: it’s not as if you can catch some sort of spiritual food poisoning by eating this meat.
So why now does he bring in this notion of idolatry? He brings it in because the answer to the question is far more nuanced than the Corinthians may have suspected. In other words, it’s not just about the meat. The meat is unimportant—but there’s more going on here than that.
The example Paul gives to show this is a very important one, and he’s laying the groundwork here for what he’ll bring up in chapter 11. It’s the example of the Lord’s Supper.
V. 15:
15 I speak as to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I say. 16 The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? 17 Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. 18 Consider the people of Israel: are not those who eat the sacrifices participants in the altar?
We see that Paul goes back to the Old Testament again to point out that something similar was true for the people of Israel. The sacrifices of the Old Covenant were the means by which the people of Israel remained in covenant with God. Those who ate the sacrifices (either the priests or, often, the person making the sacrifice, cf. Lev. 7.6, 15) benefitted from fellowship with God by partaking in what was offered in the temple.
And the same is true of the Lord’s Supper for Christians, but in an even more profound way. It’s very interesting that in chapter 10, Paul references both of the two institutions that were put in place by Christ himself: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. He wants to press really hard on the fact that these acts are not empty rituals. The Lord’s Supper is not just a symbolic act of remembrance—it is that, but it isn’t only that. It is a collective and public recognition of our fellowship with Christ and our union with one another.
In baptism, we publicly recognize that we have been brought into the New Covenant and that we belong to the body of Christ; and in the Lord’s Supper, we publicly recognize the perpetual renewal of the New Covenant, that we are continually united to Christ and to his body. As Eugene Peterson said, when we come together and take the bread and the cup, “Christ doesn’t become fragmented in us. Rather, we become unified in him.”
That’s what Paul is saying: taking the cup isn’t just a symbol of the blood of Christ; it is a participation in his blood shed for us; taking the bread isn’t just a symbol of his body, but a participation in his body broken for us. In the Lord’s Supper, we publicly affirm: “We belong to Christ. His death is our life. His body and blood define us.”
So Paul’s argument is simple: If the Lord’s Supper means real fellowship with Christ, then pagan feasts mean real fellowship with what stands behind idol worship.
19 What do I imply then? That food offered to idols is anything, or that an idol is anything? 20 No, I imply that what pagans sacrifice they offer to demons and not to God. I do not want you to be participants with demons.
This is a heavy statement, so we need to take a second to parse it.
Paul is not saying idols are real gods. He’s already said they’re not. But he says demonic powers are involved in idolatrous worship.
The Bible acknowledges that demons are not merely symbolic representations or myths, but that they are real, spiritual beings who work against God and his plans for his people.
Will they succeed? No way—Christ has defeated Satan and demons and sin. When we see movies about demonic possession it’s always depicted as a nearly equal match: God wins in the end (usually), but he has to work really hard to get the demon out. That’s totally at odds with what we see in the gospels: Christ casts out demons with a single word. They are no match for him.
But that is not to say they are powerless. In the passage we’ll see next week, we will (I hope) do away with the myth that you can be oppressed by a demon by accidentally touching or coming into contact with something demonic; I do not believe that’s the case, and I think Paul makes a very strong argument against that.
But that’s not what he’s talking about here. He’s talking about participation with demons, which is a very different thing.
The Lord’s Supper, Paul has said, causes God’s people to participate in the work of Christ; “because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread”.
That is the same sort of participation he’s talking about in reference to these sacrifices offered to idols.
In a sense, yes, this meat is just food—eating meat is a morally neutral act. But sometimes the context robs the act of its neutrality. When a pagan worshiper offered this meat to an idol, the idol is nothing; but the act of worship this pagan worshiper is performing isn’t nothing. It is an offering to demons, because by definition, it is not an offering to God.
So what are you doing if you willfully participate in that? It’s not as if the meat suddenly becomes spiritually contaminated; but what about you? What are you saying if you go into a pagan temple and participate in one of these feasts?
You see, the real, deeper question isn’t “Are we allowed to eat this meat?” but rather, “To whom are we united?”
V. 21:
21 You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons. 22 Shall we provoke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than he?
Think back to the divisions we saw all the way back in chapter 1. The Corinthians have been fracturing the church through pride, status, rights, lawsuits, sexual immorality, marriage confusion, and now food sacrificed to idols. Paul says the Lord’s Supper contradicts all of that. One bread, one body. The gospel creates a people, not isolated religious consumers.
So you can’t come to the Table of Christ, you can’t claim to be united to Christ, while living as if your choices only affect you.
Christ is not fractured, and Christ’s body cannot be compartmentalized. God wants his people wholly. Paul gave plenty of examples of this from Israel: they provoked the Lord to jealousy by seeking their own desires instead of God’s will for them. And to be clear, the Lord’s jealousy is not insecurity. It is covenant love. God refuses to treat spiritual adultery as harmless, precisely because he loves his people.
So Paul’s question at the end of v. 22 is very sharp: “Do we want to do the same thing? Shall we provoke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than he?”
The biggest problem with the people of Israel was not a lack of faith that God existed. Their biggest problem was that they didn’t fully believe their union with God was absolute. They thought they could fragment their hearts, giving God parts of it while retaining other parts in service of their own sinful desires. This is what we see in the examples Paul gives: a people seemingly united to God, but in reality fragmented in their allegiance.
And the sad fact is that fragmented allegiance is no allegiance at all.
So the question is not, “What is allowed?” But rather, “Why would a person who is united to God participate in that which separated me from him in the first place?”
To put it another way: Can we manage our own sin better than God says we can? Can we stand closer to idols than he commands? Can we redefine worship, holiness, and freedom on our own terms? If you think you know better than God, feel free—but there will be consequences to your presumption.
Conclusion
Now of course idolatry in 21st-century Paris is rarely a literal temple meal—sometimes it could be, but most of the time it’s not. The Corinthians’ idol may have been literal temple worship, but underneath it was something deeper. It was the idol of freedom without submission to God.
And that idol is still alive and well.
Paul has showed us many things in this text. He has showed us the danger of an immature overconfidence. “I discipline my body,” he said, “and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” Perseverance really does matter. Warnings like this aren’t meant to make us afraid or defeatist; on the contrary, God uses warnings like this to help his people persevere, by showing them the seriousness of the situation.
Paul has showed us that idolatry isn’t just incorrect theology, but relational betrayal. It is, as the Old Testament states over and over, spiritual adultery; which is, incidentally, one of the reasons why Christ gives adultery as one of the only legitimate grounds for divorce. Idolatry doesn’t just weaken the covenant with God; it breaks it. You cannot drink of the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons.
And Paul has showed us that Christian maturity isn’t the ability to get as close to sin as we can without being impacted. It is rather humble vigilance and discipline. The Corinthians think that maturity means knowing they’re free; but Paul says maturity means knowing they are weak, knowing God is faithful, and therefore fleeing what God says will destroy them.
All of this might seem scary, as if we’re on the edge of danger and we’ve got to get it just right. But that’s why Paul’s references to baptism and the Lord’s Supper are so helpful. This passage is full of commands: run, discipline yourself, take heed, flee. But the commands are grounded in our union to Christ.
Christ ran faithfully where Israel failed. Israel fell in the wilderness; Christ was tempted in the wilderness and obeyed.
Christ was faithful where we are not. He never bowed to Satan; he never tested the Father; he never grumbled against God’s will.
Christ gives himself to us. The cup and the bread proclaim that our life comes from his body and blood.
So we don’t flee idolatry to earn Christ, or to make sure we stay united to him. We flee idolatry because we are united to him.
To put it another way, the Lord’s Supper doesn’t say, “Try harder and maybe Christ will receive you.” The Lord’s Supper says, “Christ gave himself for you. Now do not give yourself back to idols.”
Most of the time we try to end a sermon with what we call an “application”—a way to look at the text and say, “This is what we are supposed to do in response to this text.” But I’m not going to do that today, in part because Paul gives several of them in the text itself, and actually gives his main application in next week’s text. But also because with a question as nuanced as this one, a pointed application runs the risk of erasing all of the nuance Paul has been working to build.
So instead, I want to give you some questions to consider in this coming week, to help prepare us for next week’s text—I’ll leave them up on the screen.
• Where am I seeking freedom without submission to God?
• Where am I asking, “Can I get away with this?” instead of, “Will this help me run?”
• What temptation do I keep trying to manage when I should be fleeing?
• Am I taking into account my brothers and sisters in Christ when I ask, “Can I do _____?”
And lastly:
• Am I stronger than God?
Are we wiser than Christ?
Are we safer near idols than he says we are?
Are we mature enough to ignore God’s warnings?
Those last questions, at least, we can answer: No. We are not.
So run. Flee idolatry. Come to the table of Christ with gratitude and seriousness.
And as you navigate these pressing and weighty commands, never forget: No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
