1 Corinthians 1 22-25 eSER 2

Boast In The Lord
Sermon by RICHARD A. HASLER

A young man went for a walk to meditate. He soon found himself in a field of ripe pumpkins. Also in the field happened to be a great acorn tree. The young man observed the tiny acorns hanging down from gigantic branches of the tree. Then he glanced at the enormous pumpkins on the tiny vines. He meditated for a while, and then said to himself, "God made a mistake. He should have put the tiny acorns on tiny vines and the great pumpkins on the great branches." Pondering God's apparent mistake the young man took a nap and fell fast asleep under the tree. A short time later he was awakened as a tiny acorn struck his nose. He rubbed his bruised nose and wondered, "Maybe God was right after all."1

How often we think we know what is right, certain, logical, and repeatedly we have found ourselves to be wrong. We assume we are doing the wise thing, but soon discover that what we have done is foolish. We even dare to challenge the way the Almighty apparently has arranged the universe. What appears to be foolishness may indeed be in the final analysis wisdom.

When Paul first preached the gospel in Corinth he encountered a similar reaction. His message was greeted with ridicule and derision. What was particularly objectionable was his reference to the cross. Nonetheless, Paul continued in the same vein explaining: "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

Although the reputed wise people of his day thought what he said was pure foolishness, the weakness of the cross was in reality the power of God. The supposedly helpless man upon the cross paradoxically had the power to make people truly strong. Paul's own kindred, the Jews, interpreted the cross as foolishness. Although many of the Jews longed for the Messiah to come, their picture of who he was was not that of Paul's. A common Jewish image of the Messiah was a new King David, a mighty warrior who would deliver the covenant people from their oppressors. Surely, the wonder-working Messiah would not be a man who was sentenced to die upon the cross, the dread symbol of a convicted criminal.

Likewise, the Greeks thought the cross was foolishness. These wise men, skilled in debate and endless discussion about the nature of the gods, were sure of one thing and that was that the gods would never defile themselves by becoming human. It was simply inconceivable to them that Jesus could be considered divine and yet allow mere human beings to torture him and put him to death upon a cross. Whoever he was, in their estimation he was not the Son of God.

Despite the opposition of both Jews and Greeks, a strange thing happened wherever Paul announced the good news. Although the cross was a stumbling block to many pious Jews and sophisticated Greeks, there were always some people, both Jews and Greeks, who responded to the foolishness of the cross. And those who believed learned that Paul was really saying: namely, that "... God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength."

Paul draws this particular argument to a close by reminding the Corinthian Christians to look closely at their own fellowship. By and large they did not consist of the intellectual elite, the power-brokers or celebrities of this Greek city-state. They were not of noble birth. They were ordinary people, and not a few were slaves. And yet God chose these most unlikely persons, in his own words, "things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are."

Why did God work out his plan in this manner? Was it not that no one could take pride in his or her own salvation? If there is any boasting to be done, Paul's exhortation is: "Boast in the Lord." Church history has been a continuing commentary on Paul's contention that Paul uses the "nobodies" of the world to bear witness to the Lord's kingdom, power and glory.

John Bunyan was a nobody. Born in 1619 to a poor family near Bedford, England, his formal education was meager, consisting of only two years. After serving in Oliver Cromwell's army for a few years, he returned home to follow his father's humble trade, a mender of pots and pans. In 1648 he married a devout woman who eventually guided him to a personal experience of Christ. In short time he became a Baptist preacher. Despite his ready acceptance among the common people of Bedford, his life was never easy. His ardent Puritan preaching soon offended the more staid Church of England officials. As a result, he was imprisoned in the Bedford jail in 1660 for preaching without a license and remained there for 12 years. While in prison he began writing a book, The Pilgrim's Progress, which was to become a classic allegory.

In this extraordinary story he depicts a man leaving his family with a book in his hand and a heavy burden on his back. He meets Evangelist who advises him to flee the City of Destruction and points him to the Wicket Gate. Along the way he meets numerous colorful characters: friends, such as Faithful and Hopeful; and foes, such as Worldly Wiseman, Hypocrisy and Giant Despair. He makes his way along the road confronted by one obstacle after another. All the time he is weighed down by the heavy burden he is carrying on his back. At last he comes to the cross. In one of the most unforgettable scenes depicting human liberation from the burden of sin, Bunyan explains what happens: "Just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more."2

Bunyan's own dynamic source of strength was rooted in the cross and enabled him to endure prolonged persecution. He demonstrated dramatically how God can use someone who others considered a totally insignificant human being. God confounded the wise with this simple man.

Amos Fortune was a nobody. He was an African American man, a former slave, who had somehow purchased his freedom and gone to work as a tanner in the town of Jaffrey, New Hampshire. Good at his craft, he earned some respect from the townspeople, but they were not ready really to be friends with him, at least not on an intimate basis. Especially in his Congregational Church he keenly felt the reserve that people had for him. He was only allowed to attend the services if he sat in the balcony assigned to black persons, but he was not permitted to receive communion.

A lesser man than Amos would have been bitter experiencing such rejection Sunday after Sunday, but he determined that he would not permit the prejudice against him to make him hateful toward others. One day observing the communion table, he noticed that the cup and bread trays were rather common when he thought they should represent the best in craftsmanship in order to glorify God.

When Amos died in 1801 at 91 years of age, although he was not absolutely certain of his age since slaves did not have accurate statistics about their dates of birth, he left a modest estate in his will to the town school where his daughter had suffered discrimination. Also he left another gift to his church to purchase a communion set that would reflect the beauty of this moment when people came to meditate upon God's love freely given through the broken body and shed blood of the Savior. Today in his congregation the Lord's Supper is open to all who believe in Jesus Christ. Black as well as white people gather together to commune as a family of faith. Amos' legacy symbolizes his dream that never died.3

The Russian key-lady was a nobody, too. Author Madeleine L'Engle tells of visiting Russia shortly after the sensational collapse of Communism. Madeleine stayed in an enormous cinder-block modern hotel in Moscow. On her floor near the elevator was a desk with a key-lady. When a guest needed to go to her room, she would stop at the desk and the key-lady would give her the key. When she left her room, she would turn over her key to the same woman.

On the first night when she left her key at the desk, Madeleine was wearing a Swedish silver cross that had been given to her by a dear friend, a gift that had precious memories attached to it. The key-lady admired the cross with great emotion. During the last night of their stay Madeleine approached the key-lady and placed her key on the desk, and alongside it set a cross wrapped in paper which she had just purchased. Madeleine said, "Peaceful night," in Russian and went to her room. Moments later the key-lady knocked at the door. She was crying and was laughing at the same time, continually pointing to the cross and showing where she was going to wear it. The American writer embraced her, and commented later, "... it was a wonderful affirmation of our mutual faith, a faith that she was just beginning to be allowed to express publicly."4 Though underground for all those years even the oppressive might of Communism could not squelch the fervent devotion of this ordinary Russian woman for her crucified Lord.

As we worship during this Epiphany season we are reminded again and again of the universality of the gospel. The cross of Christ is for all people, and so often it seems to be the nobodies of the world who respond with faith most willingly. Let us not be ashamed to identify with the humble Christ either. If anyone receives the glory, let our boast be in the Lord.