Why I Believe

I Corinthians 13:13 - Part 1

 

        I Corinthians 13 is one of the most beloved passages in the entire Bible. It might be hard to believe but Paul did not have a wedding in mind when he wrote these words. In fact it was quite the opposite. The church in Corinth was in turmoil.  A series of events coincided with a change in leadership and the members were at each other’s throat. Some of the problems were theological, some were practical and some of the folks just didn’t like each other. Each impasse ripped a larger hole into the delicate fiber holding the community together. Paul, almost out of desperation writes, “If I speak with the authority of a mortal or an angel but speak without love my words are useless. It hardly matters what I believe if doesn’t reflect the love of God. Faith and hope bring us together but first, and last, there must always be love.”

        For 2,000 years we have been trying to understand the power of those words. So forgive me if I take three weeks to raise some questions and observations which I hope will confirm the brilliance of Paul’s perspective:

                What do we believe?

What do we imagine God is in the process of doing?

What would motivate Paul to declare that neither faith nor hope is as important as love?

The Beatles were brazen enough to declare, “All we need is love”, but no one believes life is that simple. Yet how often do we take the time to actually contemplate what we believe? Most of us can recite the Apostles Creed from memory. But are the words etched on our hearts. Would it matter if they are not?

Douglas John Hall, Professor Emeritus of Theology at McGill University begins one of his books with these disturbing words. “I don’t see why anyone today would be a Christian.”  Before you turn your attention elsewhere, the statement begins a dialogue between a teacher and a student who dares to question any institutionalized religion in this time of secular reasoning and pluralism. The student has a point. What do we believe? Why do we believe?

I was born in a cotton mill village in northwestern Georgia. I was baptized in the Presbyterian Church. Not everyone in Cedartown went to the Presbyterian Church but on Sunday morning I imagine most folks were sitting in some church. There was no Mosque or Synagogue in Cedartown. The only non-Christians we knew about were the folks in Africa our brave missionaries were trying to convert. Growing up I never remember anyone suggesting there might not be a God. The stores were owned and the banks run by the same folks who were the elders and deacons at my church. In the towns I grew up in it seemed being a successful Christian and a successful business person were one in the same. My culture and my faith were merged. Then I made the first mistake of my faith journey. I began to read the Bible.

Don’t get me wrong. I had read the Bible all my life. My grandmother used to give me a five dollar bill each time I read the book cover to cover. I collected on her challenge more than one, the first being just before my tenth birthday. I became a “Wikipedia of Biblical facts” but I hardly understood much of what I was reading.  I had my favorite passages. Most of them proved how righteous I was compared to everyone else. I must confess I have yet to completely rid myself of that shortcoming.

But at some point in time I discovered every one of my Biblical heroes was flawed. That was devastating. Moses and David committed murder. Elijah succumbed to fear. Solomon was not as wise as he or I imagined. Amos was a bit too arrogant. Ezekiel was a bit too perfect. Each of my heroes was damaged goods. Even worse, their faith became the incentive for their ungodly actions. Moses murdered an Egyptian out of righteous anger. David had Uriah killed because as God’s anointed, David believed his desires were preordained. Elijah became afraid when he discovered power only conquers, it doesn’t convert. Solomon was so smart he destroyed Israel with his thoughtlessness. Intellectually I had embraced each of these men. When their flaws were revealed, my truths were exposed. My understanding of God was wrapped up in the personalities and abilities of each of my heroes. I believed God would make me powerful. I believed God would make me all-knowing. I believed God would keep me from fear. I had turned the Bible into a Marvel Comic book. Then suddenly I was accosted by doubt.

40 years ago I was a newly ordained minister in Wilmington, North Carolina. I was asked to teach a midweek two year study of the Bible. The first week there was a group of 20 folks who had committed to this daunting task. I began by explaining how the creation story was a poem. I spent the next hour trying to convince half the class not to leave. One woman asked, “If the world was not created in seven days, what else will you ask me not to believe?”

That is an excellent question. If faith is built on certainty, or what another declares as doctrine, then faith stands on a fragile foundation. When that faith erodes, doubt, a devastating and enlightening passion, is born. It is devastating because we are asked to question what we once considered to be an unconditional truth. But it is enlightening because a faith that shows no doubt is most assuredly dead.

To paraphrase Paul, when I was a child I knew everything there was to know about God. But as I became older my faith moved from an intellectual puzzle describing an omnipotent being to a relationship with a mystery that I no longer needed to define. Instead of being sure who God is I learned to place my trust in something beyond my comprehension. Instead of declaring myself perfect, I discovered God was capable of transformational moments despite my imperfections.

Thankfully, doubt still lingers. If it didn’t, that would be the first sign that I had regressed back into my childhood. Saying that questions are more important than answers sounds like a cliché, but there are reasons that certain clichés have a long shelf life.

Thankfully, anger still lingers. Outsiders want Christians to be nice and joyful and pretty much docile. But we live in a world filled with suffering, sorrow, discord, and grief. The Bible I read is filled with stories of folks who sacrificed their happiness, their joy, for the sake of another. The Bible never said, “God helps those who help themselves.” That was Thomas Jefferson. The Bible said, “If you have two coats, give one to a stranger.”

Thankfully love still lingers. How can faith matter if it is only one dimensional? If the full extent of my faith is only cheating death, then perhaps I really don’t understand why God created me? But if in the midst of the world’s suffering, sorrow, discord and grief, I believe God speaks, then God’s primary discourse must be, “Love one another.”

And that can be difficult. I believe in God but often I am confused by what other Godly folks claim to believe. I become frustrated with their words and actions. I find it hard to believe they might be equally irritated with my words and actions. It is like we are playing out the drama in Corinth all over again. We all believe, but sometimes we can’t believe what others are doing in God’s name.

So what do we do? Perhaps believing is our first child-like step. But loving is the more difficult Godly step. If I believe but don’t love, I am little more than a clanging bell that irritates but never transforms.

Does my faith allow me to hear the groans of another? Does my faith allow me to value the faith of another?

Is my faith grounded in love?

“Faith, hope, love”…….. Well, you know the rest. 

To God be the glory.    Amen.