Love
Intro: Pictures
Love is enriching (vv. 1–3).
Love is edifying (vv. 4–7).
Love is enduring (vv. 8–13).
Spiritual gifts were variously apportioned to individuals in the church so that no single gift was possessed by every member (cf. vv. 19–30). On the other hand the Holy Spirit sought to produce the fruit of the Spirit in every Christian (Gal. 5:22–23), chief among which was love. This was more important than the gifts, and when displayed it would help correct the Corinthian aberrations which surrounded their possession and use of God’s gifts (cf. 1 Cor. 14:1).
The key to understanding chapter 13, then, is to keep it in its context. Whatever inspiration it may have as a self-contained poem or hymn to love, Paul intended it to be used to help solve the specific problem of the destructive manner in which the Corinthians were using their spiritual gifts.
Paul now explained the right way to exercise all spiritual gifts. Higher than all the gifts of the Spirit is the grace of heavenly love. Paul declared that even the most spectacular manifestations of the gifts, even tongues or prophecy, mean nothing unless motivated by love. Christians may be talented, gifted, devoted, generous in their giving, or endowed with mountain-moving faith; but it is of no value if love is not present (13:1–3).
The gifts of the Spirit lead to the fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:22–25).
“Moving mountains” seems to have been a figure of speech for doing the impossible
love is eternal, whereas the gifts are temporary.
Structurally, 1 Cor 13 divides into three sections: Verses 1–3 expound the absolute necessity and primacy of love, vv. 4–7 describe the nature or character of love, and vv. 8–13 establish the permanence of love.
“The word did not come with a tremendous amount of pre-established content, which is why the New Testament texts dedicate so much space to explaining exactly what love means and requires of believers.” There are well-known examples of the use of ἀγαπάω with negative overtones, such as Amnon’s love for Tamar (LXX 2 Sam 13:1–4) and Demas who loved this present world and deserted Paul (2 Tim 4:10).
The things that Paul says love is not (13:4–7) are exactly the things the Corinthians are doing! Love does not envy, yet envy and strife are present (3:3). Love is not arrogant or puffed up, yet the Corinthians are boasting in men (4:6), puffed up in spite of egregious sin (4:18; 5:1), and reveling in their knowledge (8:1). Love does not act shamefully or rejoice in unrighteousness, yet the Corinthians have tolerated an incestuous man (5:1–13), taken one another to court (6:1–11), and failed to honor the sanctity of the human body (6:12–20). Love does not seek the things of oneself, which forms a key part of Paul’s argument in chaps. 8–10 regarding food sacrificed to idols. Both the necessity and permanence of love (13:1–3, 8–13) are demonstrated in comparison with gifts that are especially important to the Corinthians and the focal point of Paul’s argument in chaps. 12 and 14 (tongues, knowledge, and prophecy).
The Greek term agapē, translated “love,” is a general word for warm regard, esteem, affection; in many NT passages it has the sense of selfless concern for the welfare of others (John 3:16; Eph 5:25).
This passage is often read at weddings, even nonreligious weddings. Why? Because the idea that “love never ends,” that there’s something that never fails, that there’s something that can endure anything—that’s one of the most beautiful ideas that a human heart can hear. And at that moment, when husband and wife “may now kiss” one another during the wedding ceremony, it’s this kind of love that is coursing through their newly married minds. Love is resonant. It sounds true, even if it’s often elusive.
First Corinthians 13:1–3 makes the point that without love the gifts are worthless.
The chapter begins by establishing the preeminence of love in relation to spiritual gifts (tongues, prophecy, knowledge, and faith) and exceptional sacrifice (13:1–3)
First, it shows us our great need of redemption, warning us that sin causes us to prize dramatic—but worthless—spiritual displays (like those listed in vv. 1–3) more than our neighbor’s good.
13:3. Even self-sacrifice can be self-centered (cf. Matt. 6:2), and the ultimate sacrifice, here depicted as self-immolation (cf. Dan. 3:17–18; [apocryphal] 2 Maccabees 7:5; Strabo Geography 15. 1. 73) is ultimately futile without love.
Whether or not 13:3 should be understood as a “gift” in the traditional sense, I would submit that such actions are most certainly a “manifestation of the Spirit.” We may sometimes think too narrowly in restricting a “spiritual gift” to something possessed.
Love is permanent, in contrast with prophecies, tongues, and knowledge—all of which will cease to exist because they will cease to be needed.
Thus the verb agapao can be used interchangeably with phileo (e.g., in John 21:15–17), while in the LXX agapao can even refer to Amnon’s incestuous love/lust for his sister Tamar (2 Sam. 13:1)! But the way Paul unpacks the concept in 1 Corinthians is obviously quite different.
Modern-day warfare has seen thousands of young people sacrifice their lives in battle and in terrorism, often in the name of religion, and sometimes, as in Islam, in hopes of quick passage to heaven. Tragically, without the foundation of genuine Christian love, any such martyrs only speed up their trip to hell.
Christians are “taught of God to love one another” (1 Thes. 4:9). God the Father taught us to love by sending His Son (1 John 4:19), and God the Son taught us to love by giving His life and by commanding us to love each other (John 13:34–35). The Holy Spirit teaches us to love one another by pouring out God’s love in our hearts (Rom. 5:5). The most important lesson in the school of faith is to love one another. Love enriches all that it touches.
From knowledge and deeds of power Paul turns to deeds of mercy and dedication.
The expression reminds us of the three youths who gave their bodies to the fire (Dan. 3:28, LXX), though there is, of course, no suggestion that they were lacking in love. Paul may have had a special case in mind, such as the Indian Calanus who burnt himself alive before Alexander (Strabo 15.1.68).
Love is concerned to give itself, not to assert itself.
The phrase “Love never fails” (13:8a) forms a bridge between the acts of love (13:4–7) and the emphasis on love’s enduring character (13:8–13). The adverb translated “never” is Paul’s only use of the term in his letters and is a bit more emphatic than simple negation.358 There is never a time when love as described in 13:4–7 fails.
13:11. In the other two occurrences in the letter, “perfect” or “mature” is set in contrast to “infant.” By using the term “perfect/mature,” Paul is probably picking up on the Corinthians’ language and self-understanding in order to add rhetorical force to his argument. In 2:6–3:4, for example, the message of wisdom spoken to the mature (2:6) is set in contrast to Paul’s claim that he could only speak to them as mere infants in Christ (3:1). The Corinthians considered themselves to be mature, wise, and spiritual. Paul pointed out that their behavior indicated otherwise. The mature/infant contrast appears again in 14:20, “Brothers, stop thinking like children.
In regard to evil be infants, but in your thinking be adults.”
The whole argument of 12:1–14:40 has to do with what it means to be “spiritual” (12:1; 14:37). In 2:6–3:4, “mature” and “spiritual” are virtually synonymous terms.
The true indicator of maturity/spirituality is love, not the exercise of the temporal gifts.
The phrase “poor reflection” renders a phrase occurring only here in the New Testament, but scholars concur that the reference is to Num 12:6–8, which contrasts Moses’ prophetic experience with other prophets. Other prophets received revelation through visions and dreams (Num 12:6), but the Lord spoke to Moses face to face (Num 12:8). Ciampa and Rosner submit that Paul’s allusion to Num 12:8 “is consistent with other early Jewish interpretations in understanding that in the age to come all God’s people would have an experience similar to that which distinguished Moses from the other prophets. We already see the Lord as through a mirror (imperfectly) and know him as well as that experience allows (cf. 2 Cor 3:18), but the day is coming when we will see him as Moses did, face to face, an experience of knowing him fully as we are already fully known by him.”
Love is that essential element in life that simultaneously makes everything important and everything else unimportant.
Jonah had great faith. It was because of his great belief in the effectiveness of God’s Word that he resisted preaching to Nineveh. He was not afraid of failure but of success. He had great faith in the power of God’s Word. His problem was that he did not want the wicked Ninevites to be saved. He had no love for them, not even after they repented. He did not want them saved and was resentful of the Lord’s saving them. As the direct result of the prophet’s preaching, everyone in the city from the king down repented
Even the animals were covered with sackloth as a symbol of repentance. God miraculously spared Nineveh, just as Jonah knew he would. Then we read of one of the strangest and most hardhearted prayers in all Scripture: “But it greatly displeased Jonah, and he became angry. And he prayed to the Lord and said, ‘Please Lord, was not this what I said while I was still in my own country? Therefore, in order to forestall this I fled to Tarshish, for I knew that Thou art a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness, and one who relents concerning calamity. Therefore now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for death is better to me than life’ ” (Jonah 4:1–3). Everything Jonah acknowledged the Lord to be, the prophet himself was not and did not want to be. A more loveless man of God is hard to imagine. His faith told him that a great success would come in Nineveh, but the prophet was a great failure. The preaching wrought a great miracle, as he believed it would, but the preacher was a nothing.
Of all their many failings the Corinthian believers’ greatest failure was in love. Just as the presence of “love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Pet. 4:8), the lack of love causes a multitude of sins. The Corinthians had great lovelessness and great sin. What they needed above all else was great love and great righteousness. That which most completely characterizes God Himself should characterize His children.
While it is probably incorrect to say that love in its biblical sense has no emotional or affectionate element, Paul’s concern here is on the visible manifestations of love within the Corinthian community.
The first two verbs offer a positive appraisal of love (love is patient and kind) followed by eight negated verbs indicating what love does not do. The last negated verb, “Love does not rejoice in unrighteousness,” is balanced by another positive, “but rejoices with the truth.” The unit concludes with a fourfold positive crescendo (love endures, believes, hopes and perseveres all things/always) that paves the way for the emphasis on the permanence of love in 13:8–13.
To change the metaphor, Paul is painting a portrait of love, and Jesus Christ is sitting for the portrait. He lived out in perfection all of these virtues of love. This beautiful picture of love is a portrait of Him.
In an age in which demanding one’s rights is considered a virtue, we must read again and again that love “is not self-seeking” (v. 5).
It has often been observed that one could substitute the word “Jesus” for “love” throughout verses 4–7.
THE NEED FOR GENUINE, Christ-like love remains as great today as ever. Yet one of our greatest problems is defining love. Popular culture—in literature, music, advertising, and the visual arts—uses the word to mean just about everything except what the Bible means by it.
Paul then provides a definition of love, not in terms of mere abstract qualities but in terms of what love does (13:4–7).
Paul is careful in this passage to delineate what love is and what love is not (13:4–7) in a way particularly suited to the Corinthian context (see below). Jesus singled out love for God and love for one’s neighbor as the two great commandments, a summary of the law (Matt 22:36–40).
In the letter’s conclusion Paul urges, “Do everything in love” (16:14) and warns, “If anyone does not love the Lord—a curse be on him” (16:22). Paul concludes the letter with the affirmation, “My love to all of you in Christ Jesus” (16:24).
Finally, this chapter motivates and enables such a response by deepening our appreciation for the love of God, given to us in Christ. Patience and kindness (1 Cor. 13:4) are not only marks of human love but key biblical descriptors of God’s gracious character (see Ex. 34:6; Num. 14:18; Ps. 25:7–8; 69:16; 100:5; Jer. 33:11; Rom. 2:4; 11:22; Eph. 2:7; 1 Tim. 1:16). When love does not “insist on [lit., ‘seek’] its own way” (1 Cor. 13:5), it mirrors the sacrifice of Christ, who did not “seek [his] own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved” (10:33–11:1; cf. Phil. 2:4–11, 21). Similarly, love “is not … resentful” (1 Cor. 13:5; lit. does not “count evil”) but forgives the evil things others do to us, just as in Christ God does not “count” our sins against us (2 Cor. 5:19; Rom. 4:8).
13:4. Paul shifted from the first person to the third person and replaced himself with a personification of love. Some have seen in verses 4–6 the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23); others have seen here a description of Christ Himself.
Patience (makrothymia) is the capacity to be wronged and not retaliate.
Patience (makrothymia) is the capacity to be wronged and not retaliate. The Corinthian church had many members who had been wronged (e.g., in lawsuits [1 Cor. 6:8] and the poor at communal meals [11:21–22]). The response of love to these wrongs would be a display of kindness and goodness. Envy and boasting seemed to abound as two poles of the same problem (e.g., divisions [1:10; 3:3, 21]; gifts [12:14–25]).
13:6. Love does not delight in evil (e.g., incest [5:1–2, 8]), but rejoices in truth (5:8).
13:7 always trusts. Believes all things. This does not mean that Christians are gullible, believing anyone or anything. Trust is faith in God and Jesus Christ; it is faith that becomes effective through love (Gal 5:6). There is no crisis, no sin, no problem in the church that can shatter faith in God.
In the previous comments (vv. 1–3), the focus is on the emptiness produced when love is absent from ministry. In these verses, the fullness of love is described, in each case by what love does. Love is action, not abstraction.
Furthermore, love covers the faults of others rather than delighting in them (v. 7). It is trusting, optimistic, and willing to endure persecution (cf. Rom 5:3, 4). In short, it “perseveres.”
But in this chapter, as throughout Scripture, love is first of all an action, an unconditional commitment, a promise that is never broken.
Read 1 Corinthians 13:4–7 carefully and compare this with the fruit of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22–23. You will see that all of the characteristics of love show up in that fruit. This is why love edifies: it releases the power of the Spirit in our lives and churches.
The concept is often used of God (Luke 18:7; 2 Pet. 3:9; the noun, Rom. 2:4; 9:22, etc.). It thus points to a godlike quality, and is eloquent of love’s self-restraint. The other side of this is that love is kind (chrēsteuomai). This is the only occurrence of the verb in the New Testament and it is not found before this. Some have felt that Paul coined it. The corresponding adjective may be translated ‘good’ (15:33), or ‘kind’ (Eph. 4:32). Perhaps we are not wrong in suggesting that Paul’s verb combines the two meanings. Love reacts with goodness towards those who ill-treat it; it gives itself in kindness in the service of others.
This does not mean that love is gullible, but that it does not think the worst (as is the way of the world). It retains its faith
The fourth-century Church father John Chrysostom said that it is the word used of those who are wronged and who have it easily in their power to avenge themselves and yet who will not do it.
Paul also often ministered with tears, frequently for fellow Jews who would not accept Jesus Christ. It was they who caused him most of his trials, but it was their turning against the gospel, not their turning against him, that caused him to minister “with tears” (Acts 20:19)
President, Abraham Lincoln, with more contempt than did his secretary for war, Edwin Stanton. He called him ‘a low cunning clown’, he nicknamed him ‘the original gorilla’ and said that the traveller and explorer Paul Du Chaillu was a fool to wander about Africa trying to capture a gorilla when he could have found one so easily at Springfield, Illinois. Lincoln said nothing. He made Stanton his war minister because he was the best man for the job, and he treated him with every courtesy. The years wore on. The night came when the assassin’s bullet murdered Lincoln in the theatre. In the little room to which the President’s body was taken stood that same Stanton, and, looking down on Lincoln’s silent face, he said through his tears: ‘There lies the greatest ruler of men the world has ever seen.’ The patience of love had conquered in the end.
Love does not store up the memory of any wrong it has received. The word translated as store up (logizesthai) is an accountant’s word. It is the word used for entering up an item in a ledger so that it will not be forgotten. That is precisely what so many people do. One of the great arts in life is to learn what to forget. Similarly, many people nurse their anger to keep it simmering; they brood over their wrongs until it is impossible to forget them. Christian love has learned the great lesson of forgetting.
In relation to our fellow men and women, it means that love always believes the best about other people. It is often true that we make people what we believe them to be. If we show that we do not trust people, we may make them untrustworthy. If we show people that we trust them absolutely, we may make them trustworthy.
There are plenty of things we can live without, but love is not one of them To quote a popular 1997 hit, “I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, what you did, as long as you love me.” Love trumps identity, pedigree, and history. Another singer agrees: “As long as you love me, we could be starving, we could be homeless, we could be broke, as long you love me.”3
Can a person ever bear all things, endure all things? That’s a recipe for a nervous breakdown. People do not have an endless reservoir of belief and hope. We can’t even endure a ten-minute conversation in many cases, let alone “all things.” Love is impossible. So what is a person to do?
Barbara Fredrickson, professor of psychology at the University of North Carolina, in her new book Love 2.0 suggests that love needs an upgrade. The old love—the kind we’ve been talking about—is outmoded, and we need a new model. What does Fredrickson’s new model look like? Here are her words: “Love is not exclusive.” “Love’s timescale is far shorter than we typically think. Love, as you’ll see, is not lasting.” “And perhaps most challenging of all, love is not unconditional.”
What then is love for Fredrickson? “Love is that micro-moment of warmth and connection that you share with another living being.” “Love is an emotion, a momentary state.”13 And what is the result of this upgrade to Love 2.0? “Right now—at this very moment in which I am crafting this sentence—I do not love my husband. Our positivity resonance, after all, only lasts as long as we two are engaged with one another. The same goes for you and your loved ones. Unless you’re cuddled up with someone reading these words aloud to him or her, right now, you don’t love anyone.” Does Love 2.0 sound like an upgrade to anyone? It sounds like going from an iPhone 6 to a rotary phone.
In this way God, who after all is love (1 John 4:8, 16), fills life with all the necessary meaning that we crave.
Alain de Botton, a thought-provoking philosopher of the atheist stripe, has a remarkable reflection on love:
Passing an unfortunate woman in the street one day, [my girlfriend] asked me, “Would you have loved me if I’d had an enormous birthmark on my face like she does?” The yearning is that the answer be yes—an answer that would place love above the mundane surfaces of the body, or more particularly, its cruel unchangeable ones (i.e. “I will love you not just for your wit and talent and beauty, but simply because you are you, with no strings attached. I love you for who you are deep in your soul, not for the colour of your eyes or the length of your legs or size of your chequebook”). The longing is that the lover admire us stripped of our external assets, appreciating the essence of our being without accomplishment.… Even if we are beautiful and rich, then we do not wish to be loved on account of these things, for they may fail us, and with them, love.… The desire is that I be loved even if I lose everything: leaving nothing but me, this mysterious me taken to be the self at its weakest, most vulnerable point. Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness?
Unlike most English translations, which include several adjectives, the Greek forms of all those properties are verbs. They do not focus on what love is so much as on what love does and does not do. Agapē love is active, not abstract or passive. It does not simply feel patient, it practices patience. It does not simply have kind feelings, it does kind things. It does not simply recognize the truth, it rejoices in the truth. Love is fully love only when it acts (cf. 1 John 3:18).
Chrysostom, the early church Father, said, “It is a word which is used of the man who is wronged and who has it easily in his power to avenge himself but will never do it.
Stephen’s last words were ones of patient forgiveness: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Acts 7:60). As he lay dying under the painful, crushing blows of the stones, his concern was for his murderers rather than for himself. He was long-tempered, patient to the absolute extreme.
The supreme example of patience, of course, is God Himself. It is God’s patient love that prevents the world from being destroyed. It is His patience and long-suffering that allows time for men to be saved (2 Pet. 3:9). As He was dying on the cross, rejected by those He had come to save, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
Just as patience will take anything from others, kindness will give anything to others, even to its enemies. Being kind is the counterpart of being patient. To be kind (chrēsteuomai) means to be useful, serving, and gracious. It is active goodwill. It not only feels generous, it is generous. It not only desires others’ welfare, but works for it.
Jealousy is not a moderate or harmless sin. It was Eve’s jealousy of God, sparked by her pride, to which Satan successfully appealed. She wanted to be like God, to have what He has and to know what He knows. Jealousy was an integral part of that first great sin, from which all other sin has descended. The next sin mentioned in Genesis is murder, caused by Cain’s jealousy of Abel. Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery because of jealousy. Daniel was thrown into the lion’s den because of the jealousy of his fellow officials in Babylon. Jealousy caused the elder brother to resent the father’s attention to the prodigal son.
“Wrath is fierce and anger is a flood, but who can stand before jealousy?” (Prov. 27:4). In its extreme, jealousy has a viciousness shared by no other sin. “If you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your heart,” says James, “do not be arrogant and so lie against the truth. This wisdom is not that which comes down from above, but is earthly, natural, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every evil thing” (James 3:14–16). Selfish ambition, which is fueled by jealousy, is often clever and successful. But its “wisdom” is demonic and its success is destructive.
Jesus was God incarnate, yet never exalted Himself in any way. “Although He existed in the form of God, [He] did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and … being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself” (Phil. 2:6–8). Jesus, who had everything to boast of, never boasted. In total contrast, we who have nothing to boast of are prone to boast. Only the love that comes from Jesus Christ can save us from flaunting our knowledge, our abilities, our gifts, or our accomplishments, real or imagined.
William Carey, often referred to as the father of modern missions, was a brilliant linguist, responsible for translating parts of the Bible into no fewer than 34 different languages and dialects. He had been raised in a simple home in England and in his early manhood worked as a cobbler. In India he often was ridiculed for his “low” birth and former occupation. At a dinner party one evening a snob said, “I understand, Mister Carey, that you once worked as a shoemaker.” “Oh no, your lordship,” Carey replied, “I was not a shoemaker, only a shoe repairman.”
When Jesus began to preach He soon overshadowed the ministry of John the Baptist. Yet John spoke of Him as “He who comes after me, the thong of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie” (John 1:27). When John’s disciples later became jealous of Jesus’ popularity, John rebuked them, saying, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (3:30).
On one occasion Jesus was dining in the home of a Pharisee named Simon. During the meal a prostitute came and washed Jesus’ feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and then anointed them with expensive perfume. Simon, embarrassed and offended, thought to himself, “If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner.” Jesus then told the parable of the moneylender who forgave two debtors, one for 500 denarii and the other for 50. He asked Simon which debtor would be more grateful, to which the Pharisee answered,
“I suppose the one whom he forgave more.” … Turning toward the woman, He said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair. You gave Me no kiss; but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss My feet. You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.” (Luke 7:36–47)
The primary example of love in that story is not the woman’s, sincere and beautiful as it was. It is Jesus’ love that is the most remarkable, and that is in such contrast to Simon’s lovelessness
Love does not seek its own. Here is probably the key to everything. The root evil of fallen human nature is in wanting to have its own way. R. C. H. Lenski, the well-known Bible commentator, has said, “Cure selfishness and you have just replanted the garden of Eden.” Adam and Eve rejected God’s way so that they could have their own. Self replaced God. That is the opposite of righteousness and the opposite of love. Love is not preoccupied with its own things but with the interests of others (Phil. 2:4).
Logizomai (take into account) is a bookkeeping term that means to calculate or reckon, as when figuring an entry in a ledger. The purpose of the entry is to make a permanent record that can be consulted whenever needed. In business that practice is necessary, but in personal matters it is not only unnecessary but harmful. Keeping track of things done against us is a sure way to unhappiness—our own and that of those on whom we keep records.
The same Greek word is used often in the New Testament to represent the pardoning act of God for those who trust in Jesus Christ. “Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will not take into account” (Rom. 4:8). “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor. 5:19). Once sin is placed under the blood of Christ there is no more record of it. It is blotted out, “wiped away” (Acts 3:19). In God’s heavenly record the only entry after the names of His redeemed is “righteous,” because we are counted righteous in Christ. Christ’s righteousness is placed to our credit. No other record exists.
One of the most common forms of rejoicing in sin is gossip. Gossips would do little harm if they did not have so many eager listeners. This sin, which many Christians treat lightly, is wicked not only because it uncaringly reveals the weaknesses and sins of others, and therefore hurts rather than helps them, but because the heart of gossip is rejoicing in evil. Gossip that is true is still gossip.
The four qualities mentioned in verse 7 are hyperbole, exaggerations to make a point. Paul has made it clear that love rejects jealousy, bragging, arrogance, unseemliness, selfishness, anger, resentment, and unrighteousness. It does not bear, believe, hope, or endure lies, false teaching, or anything else that is not of God. By all things Paul is speaking of all things acceptable in God’s righteousness and will, of everything within the Lord’s divine tolerance. The four qualities listed here are closely related and are given in ascending order.
Stegō (to bear) basically means to cover or to support and therefore to protect. Love bears all things by protecting others from exposure, ridicule, or harm. Genuine love does not gossip or listen to gossip. Even when a sin is certain, love tries to correct it with the least possible hurt and harm to the guilty person. Love never protects sin but is anxious to protect the sinner.
The mercy seat, where the blood of atonement was sprinkled (Lev. 16:14), was a covering, not only for the ark itself but for the sins of the people. The mercy seat was a place of covering. That covering prefigured the perfect and final covering of sin accomplished by Jesus on the cross in His great propitiatory sacrifice (Rom. 3:25–26; Heb. 2:17; 1 John 2:2). In the cross God threw the great mantle of His love over sin, forever covering it for those who trust in His Son. By nature, love is redemptive. It wants to buy back, not condemn, to save, not judge.
Even when belief in a loved one’s goodness or repentance is shattered, love still hopes. When it runs out of faith it holds on to hope. As long as God’s grace is operative human failure is never final. God would not take Israel’s failure as final. Jesus would not take Peter’s failure as final. Paul would not take the Corinthians’ failure as final. There are more than enough promises in the Bible to make love hopeful.
Love bears what otherwise is unbearable; it believes what otherwise is unbelievable; it hopes in what otherwise is hopeless; and it endures when anything less than love would give up. After love bears it believes. After it believes it hopes. After it hopes it endures. There is no “after” for endurance, for endurance is the unending climax of love.
As we seek to grow in love, we must always keep Christ’s saving work in clear view, since Scripture consistently treats this as the ultimate demonstration of love (John 3:16; 15:12–13; Rom. 5:8; Gal. 2:20; Eph. 2:4–7; 5:2, 25; 1 John 3:16; 4:9–10; Rev. 1:5).
Heaven will be the place for the expression of nothing but perfect love toward God and each other.
Paul’s illustration of a child’s thoughts and speech, real but inadequately conceived and expressed in comparison with those of a mature person (v. 11) aptly conveys the difference between the Christian’s present understanding and expression of spiritual things and the perfect understanding and expression he will have in heaven (v. 12).
The main evidence of maturity in the Christian life is a growing love for God and for God’s people, as well as a love for lost souls. It has well been said that love is the “circulatory system” of the body of Christ.
For the child all talking, thinking and reasoning are done at the childish level. Paul contrasts this with man’s estate. He was no Peter Pan, refusing to grow up. He exercised the functions of adulthood with determination; he put childish ways behind him (put … behind is katargeō once more; the fourth different translation of this difficult verb in four verses!). Paul does not mean simply that childish things passed away with the passing of time. His choice of verb indicates a determination on his part that he would not be ruled by childish attitudes. The tense is perfect, which shows that he put away childish things with decision and finality
Corinth was famous for its mirrors, but few Christians would have been able to afford a mirror of good quality. In the nature of the case the reflection would not be very clear. It is, of course, also the case that a mirror always distorts to some extent: it reverses left and right, what it shows is limited by the frame, and it is always indirect. So Paul says we see en ainigmati, ‘dimly’ (RSV). The noun properly means ‘a riddle’ (we derive our word ‘enigma’ from it), so that the expression means ‘in a riddle’, i.e. ‘indistinctly’ (cf. NEB, ‘Now we see only puzzling reflections in a mirror’). While we live out our lives on this earth our sight of things eternal is, at best, indistinct. But then, says Paul, it will be face to face. He does not define his then, nor does he say with whom we shall be face to face. But in neither case is there need. His meaning is plain enough.
If the motive which makes people give their lives for Christ is pride and exhibitionism, then even martyrdom becomes valueless. It is not cynical to remember that many actions which look sacrificial have been the product of pride and not of devotion.
There is nothing greater than to love God and to love one’s neighbor as oneself (Matt 22:36–40).
Jeremiah’s ministry was in stark contrast to Balaam’s. He was the weeping prophet, not because of his own problems, which were great, but because of the wickedness of his people, because of their refusal to turn to the Lord, and because of the punishment he had to prophesy against them. He wept over them much as Jesus later wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41–44). Early in his ministry Jeremiah was so moved by the spiritual plight of his people that he cried out, “My sorrow is beyond healing, my heart is faint within me!… For the brokenness of the daughter of my people I am broken; I mourn, dismay has taken hold of me.… Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!” (Jer. 8:18, 21; 9:1)
The term for give means to dole out in small quantities, and signifies a long-term, systematic program of giving away everything one possesses.
