Proven Maturity (1 Corinthians 4.8-21)

Ever since the beginning of this series, we’ve been hearing Paul make a contrast between the perceived wisdom of the Corinthians, and the true wisdom of God. Wisdom and philosophy were a big deal in this city at this time, and Paul wants this church to see that what they think is wisdom is actually hollow and empty, while the gospel is true wisdom.

But he’s clear that this is going to seem illogical to them at first. In 1 Cornithians 1.18, the apostle Paul says that “the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing.” We talked a few weeks ago about why that is the case: a Savior who obtains victory by dying doesn’t make any sense, especially in the context of first-century Rome.

But that’s not the only reason why the word of the cross seems like folly to those who don’t have faith in Christ. It’s not just because without faith, we won’t be able to see how a crucified Savior can be victorious; it’s also because following Christ means following him in his suffering. In other words, it’s not just about what it cost him to save us, but what it costs us—and that cost will just be one step too far for many people.

That’s what Paul’s going to get at today. In last week’s text, Paul put all of the emphasis on the Corinthians’ immaturity and pride—they’re assessing their leaders to make judgments on which leader is the best, using their own opinions as weapons for their own pride, but the tools they need to even think such thoughts show them they have nothing to boast about. You have nothing that you didn’t receive, Paul says, so you have no reason to boast.

Now, he’s going to transition from a slightly abstract idea—the idea of leaders as servants, not as reasons for pride—to a very concrete idea that the Corinthians won’t be able to deny, because they’ve seen it with their own eyes.

Proof of Truth (v. 8–13)

This is just my opinion, but I stand by it: as a rule, especially in conversation, sarcasm is almost always more harmful than helpful. Sarcasm feels really good to the person who uses it, and usually bad for the person who receives it. I’m not talking about good-natured sarcasm, but of the sort that comes out when you’re having an argument. It almost always serves to build one person up and to tear another person down.

However, there are occasions during which sarcasm can be helpful. If someone has come to a point where no logical argument can sway them, then sarcasm may be the only thing that can hit home, because it presents a false picture of what’s going on, in order to show the other person they’ve actually started believing that false picture. It paints a ridiculous picture—a ridiculous lie—in order to show the other person that they’ve fallen for the lie.

That’s what Paul’s doing here. He’s positively dripping with sarcasm, but he’s not doing it to hurt the Corinthians; he’s doing it to help them see the contrast between themselves and the leaders they claim to follow.

V. 8:

8 Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich! Without us you have become kings! And would that you did reign, so that we might share the rule with you! 9 For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. 10 We are fools for Christ’s sake, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we in disrepute.

The Corinthians believe they are spiritually mature—already you’ve become rich! They believe they’re wise. They believe they’ve achieved the status of people who can take command, who can reign as kings. They believe their reputations are protection. They believe they’re doing well—they have all that they want.

You see, they haven’t accepted wisdom; they’ve redefined wisdom. They claim their spiritual life is founded on the cross, but they’re operating by a worldly system of evaluation.

The cross shows us what true wisdom looks like, by showing us Jesus. What Christ showed us at the cross is the polar opposite of what we see in the Corinthians.

The Corinthians think wisdom means superiority; the cross says that wisdom means humility.

The Corinthians think wisdom means strength; the cross says that wisdom means weakness.

The Corinthians think wisdom means prestige; the cross says that wisdom means suffering.

The Corinthians think wisdom means present glory; the cross says that wisdom means future glory.

The Corinthians knew this already; they’ve heard the gospel, they know what Jesus was like. But they’ve forgotten it in practice, because the world around them is so radically different from the way Jesus lived.

So now that Paul has reminded them of this, he lets the sarcasm go and tells them the simple truth—and it’s a truth they’ve seen with their own eyes, something they cannot deny. V. 11:

11 To the present hour we [the apostles] hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, 12 and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; 13 when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.

The apostles’ lives could not have looked more different from the lives the Corinthians set up for themselves. They endure material suffering; they’re hungry and thirsty; they’re poorly dressed and homeless. This isn’t episodic; it’s not occasional. This is the way they live.

They endure social injustice: they’re reviled and persecuted and slandered. And yet, when they are reviled, they bless; when they’re persecuted, they endure; when they’re slandered, they entreat (they continue to encourage those who slander them).

So you see, Paul now proves everything that he has been saying over the course of the first two chapters. The cross looks foolish to the world, he said—so do the apostles. The cross looks weak to the world—so do the apostles. Christ was rejected—so are the apostles. Christ was mocked and reviles—so are the apostles. Christ was crucified in weakness—the apostles suffer in weakness.

Paul’s life, and the life of the other apostles, are proof that he is telling the truth, that his life, and the lives of the other apostles, are in keeping with the gospel of Christ.

This is the difference between genuine Christianity and cultural Christianity, between real faith and inherited faith. Lots of us here grew up in church, so we know what Christianity sounds like. But many people who grew up in church don’t necessarily know what true Christianity looks like.

It’s easy to speak of trusting God in the midst of suffering; it’s really different to be genuinely at peace when you’re fighting cancer. It’s easy to speak of persevering in persecution; it’s really different to remain open about your faith when you live in a part of the world where you can be killed for being a Christian. It’s easy to speak of sacrificing for the gospel; it’s really different to literally leave your world and your possessions behind to serve God as a missionary in a needy country.

Or, a much simpler example: it’s easy to pray for God to make us holy, but it’s really different to be faced with a temptation to sin that no one is ever going to see but you, and to resist that sin anyway.

Christ gave everything for us when he lived our life, took our sin on himself and suffered in our place, for our sin. If we have truly grasped what he did for us in the gospel, then we will see that the gospel gives us not only salvation, but a life pattern to follow. The cross doesn’t just save us; it forms us.

A Life Worth Imitating (v. 14–17)

It might be easy to look at Paul’s sarcastic rebuke as simply mean, but that’s not his intention; he wants to help the Corinthians see more clearly, because he loves them. V. 14:

14 I do not write these things to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children. 15 For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. 16 I urge you, then, be imitators of me. 17 That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord, to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church.

I’ll be honest—coming on the heels of everything Paul said in the first three chapters about how the Corinthians shouldn’t be so attached to one leader or another, I found this to be a bit confusing at first. But if you take it in the context of what he said just before, it actually makes sense. You have countless guides in Christ, he says, but “you do not have many fathers.” He calls himself their “father”, not because he feels they owe him loyalty, but because he’s the one who first introduced them to the gospel, and because they have seen that his teaching is trustworthy: they’ve seen it worked out in his own life.

Several weeks ago I mentioned the fact that my dad could discipline me more effectively than my mom. I said it clumsily, because I gave the impression that I didn’t take my mom seriously, which wasn’t true. But my dad was different—in part because of his demeanor, but also because my dad was the picture of what I, as a young man, wanted to be. When I looked at my dad, I saw a picture of what a mature Christian man looks like.

That’s the kind of relationship Paul is pleading for here—he doesn’t want the Corinthians to be loyal to him, but he does want them to recognize that the life he has showed them is worthy of being imitated.

And that really is the difference between infancy and maturity. When you’re a child, you take orders; you’re expected to do what your parents tell you because they’re your parents, and you have to. When you’re older, your parents can’t expect the same obedience, but they do hope that you are able to recognize the good things they taught you and do those things on your own—not for the sake of obedience, but simply because it’s the right thing to do.

That’s the Corinthians’ problem: they have accumulated voices, but resisted formation. So Paul is pleading with them to let themselves be formed by his example. Their own spiritual birth came through Paul’s suffering, Paul’s preaching, and Paul’s sacrifice. To despise the pattern of life Paul laid out for them is to despise their own origin story.

And this—that model Paul has shown them—is the power of which he spoke before, in chapter 2. Remember, he said (2.3-5):

3 And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, 4 and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, 5 so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

He didn’t come with lofty speech or philosophical brilliance. He came to them in weakness and fear and trembling, which showed that the true power of the gospel didn’t come through him, but through God. And now, they have the same example in Timothy, Paul’s apprentice who has come to them. Timothy lives like Paul lived. He’s there to show the Corinthians that the pattern of the apostles is consistent and transferable.

To put it another way, Paul’s telling them all of this and reminding them of his life and sending Timothy as another example in order to say, “We aren’t innovators. We are disciples of Christ. Live like us.”

The Power of God’s Kingdom (v. 18–20)

Timothy’s coming may be taken as a sign that Paul is passing the torch—which the Corinthians might take to mean they no longer really need to take him seriously. Distance from Paul has produced an inflated sense of their own ego. But Paul is planning to return, he says, and when he does, truth will be exposed. V. 18:

18 Some are arrogant, as though I were not coming to you. 19 But I will come to you soon, if the Lord wills, and I will find out not the talk of these arrogant people but their power. 20 For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power. 21 What do you wish? Shall I come to you with a rod, or with love in a spirit of gentleness?

Paul is closing the loop now before moving on to other topics. Remember, in 1.18, he said,

For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

If the word of the cross is the power of God to those who are being saved, then it is no surprise that life in the kingdom of God consists in that same power—a power that looks like folly.

The Corinthians have assumed that impressive words, impressive rhetoric, confer authority. But that’s not what true power or kingdom authority look like. Kingdom power doesn’t consist in eloquence or charisma, but in endurance, and holiness, and sacrificial love.

The same paradox holds here: true power doesn’t look like strength to those outside the kingdom; it looks like weakness.

One of the most convincing signs of maturity is not feeling the need to fight, even when you know you can win. Not needing to be impressive, even when you know you can impress. If a little kid wants to show you how fast he can run, you’re not going to laugh and say, “Come on—I can run so much faster than that.” If you’re mature, you don’t need to prove yourself to those who are immature.

That’s what Paul’s going to examine when he comes—not giftedness, but formation. And there will be two possible outcomes to what he finds. Either he will come with “a rod”, meaning with correction and discipline, or “a spirit of gentleness,” meaning encouragement and comfort.

This is just my opinion, but I don’t think he means that if the Corinthians can’t be mature, Paul’s going to go in guns blazing to make them all look dumb. I think Paul’s going to have the same basic discourse in either case—the same arguments he’s been maintaining since the beginning of this letter.

But maturity changes the way you hear correction. An immature person will listen to correction and react to it as being harsh or overbearing. They’ll reject correction, because it doesn’t fit into their idea of their own value.

A mature person will listen to correction—even unpleasant correction—and will recognize it as useful, as helpful. A mature person feels encouraged by the prospect of further growth, even if it hurts a little to get there.

Again—power looks like weakness. It’s okay to need correction. It’s okay to need someone to tell you the areas in which you need to change. A mature child of God, a person of kingdom power, will recognize that they aren’t perfect, and will welcome any opportunity for growth.

Conclusion

One of the big problems the Corinthians show us here is that of an over-realized eschatology. The word “eschatology” refers to the theology of last things—the theology of the return of Christ, and eternal life. Proper eschatology tells us that Christ will one day return to judge the living and the dead, after which he will rid all of creation of the ravages of sin and reign forever with his people in the new heavens and the new earth.

But the Corinthians—and, frankly, many Christians still today—assume that if they’ve made a decision to follow Christ, then that eternal glory, that kingdom reign, will begin for us now.

It’s not at all difficult to see. Think of the number of people who have left the Christian faith, or who at the very least have struggled with extreme doubt, because their life didn’t get better when they decided to follow Christ. Their relationships didn’t get easier; their problems didn’t go away; their financial problems weren’t solved; their jobs didn’t suddenly fulfill them—and they’re devastated and filled with doubt, because they came into the faith with the assumption that Christ would make everything better.

Of course, Christ will make everything better…he just didn’t promise to do it right now.

The apostles are a wonderful example of this. Paul never presents the apostles as heroes; he presents them as patterned after Christ. They are dishonored; they are weak; they are rejected; they suffer. This isn’t incidental hardship; this is their call. You can’t have the power of the resurrection without the humility of the cross.

Christ reigns now today, absolutely, and one day he will reign in full view of all creation, and his people will reign alongside him. But during his life, Christ was not valued. He was despised and rejected. He had a fiery ministry for a short time, but that ministry ended in his rejection by his own people, abandonment by his disciples, false accusations, and ultimately, death.

In regards to the Christian life, the true grace of Jesus Christ is shown, not in the fact that he prevents us from suffering, but rather that he preceded us in suffering, to show us that present struggle, present weakness, is in no way a sign of failure. The kingdom of God consists not in words but in power; but that power often looks like weakness. As Paul said in chapter 1, God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, and God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.

So as we close, let’s try to put ourselves in the Corinthians’ shoes. If we received this letter from the apostle Paul, how would we hear it? Would we recognize in ourselves impatience with weakness or suffering? Are we easily disilusioned when we go through difficult times? Do we have a fascination with status, or an inflated sense of our own value?

If we are like this—and I think most of us are to some extent, if we’re honest—then what Paul says here very much applies to us.

The cross doesn’t just grant us salvation; it also guides our formation. Maturity isn’t a question of moving beyond suffering, but of being shaped through it. If we pay attention to the Bible, we see it time and again: the God of all miracles most often brings his people to maturity through misunderstanding, through rejection, through loss of reputation, through perseverance in suffering.

And if we pay attention, we’ll be able to see this in the Christians around us. Think about it for a minute: who do you know that models this kind of maturity for you? Whose life has been marked by growth in Christ, not through good fortune, but through endurance in the hardship that God allows? Whose life isn’t just a voice box for the gospel, but a picture of the gospel? Whom would God call you to observe and imitate?

We can be sure that no one who has grown in Christlikeness has come by it without struggle. And no one who has truly grown in Christlikeness will boast that they have “made it”—that they are like Christ. They’ll see what God has done in them, and they’ll be thankful to him; they’ll boast in him.

The power of God, which shames the strong, is not found in miracles—every religion in the world boasts of miraculous signs. It is not found in influence—every major religion has significant influence around the world. It is not found in success—that’s the world’s metric for truth.

The true power of God can be seen in his people when they grow in holiness; when they endure faithfully through hardship; and when they love well under great pressure.

That is the power of God that Paul models. It’s the power of God I want to see in myself, and it’s the power of God I pray to see in our church.