A Reflection on 1 Corinthians 4:8–13
1 Corinthians 4:8–13 (ESV)
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. 11 To the present hour we 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.
Reflection
Paul’s words are sharp here. There is sarcasm in them, but there is also something much deeper happening. The Corinthians had begun to live as though they had already arrived. They had their teachers, their knowledge, their spiritual experiences, and their sense of importance. They wanted the benefits of following Christ without necessarily embracing the cost of following Christ. Paul describes them as already having everything they want, already being rich, already becoming kings. Then he contrasts that picture with the apostles. The apostles are fools for Christ. They are weak. They are dishonored. They hunger and thirst. They are poorly dressed, beaten, homeless, and working with their own hands. They are reviled, persecuted, and slandered. There is a massive difference between the kingdom they seem to think they have entered and the life Paul is actually describing.
That contrast makes me uncomfortable because I understand the desire of the Corinthians more than I probably want to admit. I want to be comfortable. I want to be taken care of. I want things to work. I want the bills paid, the house in order, the relationships healthy, the ministry moving forward, and enough margin left over to enjoy life. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with those things. God has blessed me with food, clothing, a place to sleep, relationships, work, opportunities, and more than I deserve. But somewhere in the middle of all those blessings, I can begin to believe that comfort is the evidence that everything is going right. I can start building a life where following Jesus fits comfortably into everything else rather than allowing following Jesus to rearrange everything else.
That is where I think the throne comes in.
We all want to sit on one. Maybe not a literal throne with a crown sitting on our heads, but we want some measure of control over our lives. We want to determine what happens, when it happens, and how much it costs us. We want to decide what sacrifices are reasonable. We want to determine which needs are ours to meet and which ones belong to someone else. We want to be comfortable enough to serve, but not so uncomfortable that serving actually disrupts our lives. We want to follow Christ, but we would prefer to follow Him from a position where we still have a pretty good view of the schedule, the bank account, the calendar, and the future.
And if I’m honest, I can build a pretty impressive throne.
I can sit there and call it wisdom. I can call it responsibility. I can call it preparation. I can call it stewardship. Sometimes those things are exactly what they should be. But sometimes they are just nicer names for control. I can convince myself that I’m being responsible when I’m really avoiding obedience. I can tell myself that I am waiting for the right time when I am actually waiting for the right level of comfort. I can say that I want to make sure I have enough before I give anything away, enough time before I invest in someone, enough energy before I serve, enough resources before I become generous. And eventually I have built a life where there is always a reason not to move.
Paul doesn’t seem to be living that way.
His life is remarkably inconvenient.
He doesn’t describe a ministry strategy built around protecting his comfort. He describes hunger, thirst, poor clothing, physical abuse, homelessness, manual labor, persecution, and slander. And even more striking than what happened to him is how he responded to it. When reviled, he blessed. When persecuted, he endured. When slandered, he answered with gentleness. Paul wasn’t simply suffering. He was responding to suffering in a way that looked different from the world around him.
That makes me ask a question I don’t really like: Am I a fool for Christ’s sake, or do I look too much like everyone else?
I don’t mean that I need to manufacture persecution or intentionally make life difficult so I can prove that I’m following Jesus. That would miss the point entirely. Jesus didn’t call us to chase suffering. He called us to follow Him. But following Jesus means there will be moments when obedience is inconvenient. There will be moments when loving someone costs me something. There will be moments when telling the truth isn’t the easiest option. There will be moments when forgiveness requires me to surrender my right to be angry. There will be moments when generosity means I have less. There will be moments when serving someone else means my plans change. There will be moments when doing what is right makes me look foolish to someone who doesn’t understand why I’m doing it.
Those moments are probably much closer to the heart of Paul’s words than simply asking whether I’ve been persecuted.
I don’t receive much persecution. And maybe that’s okay. But it does make me wonder whether I’m living faithfully or simply living comfortably. Am I avoiding the places where obedience would cost me something? Am I taking the path of least resistance because it is easier? Am I protecting my time so carefully that I have no time left for people? Am I protecting my resources so carefully that I never have anything left to give? Am I protecting my reputation so carefully that I never risk telling someone the truth in love? Am I protecting my plans so carefully that I can’t recognize when God interrupts them?
Jesus seemed remarkably comfortable with interruptions.
People interrupted His journey. They interrupted His meals. They interrupted His teaching. They interrupted His plans. And He saw people. He stopped. He listened. He healed. He taught. He loved. He went out of His way because people mattered more than the schedule.
That is difficult for me because I like a schedule.
I like knowing where I’m going. I like having a plan. I like working toward something. I like knowing that the time I spend is accomplishing something. But people don’t always fit neatly into those categories. A person who needs encouragement doesn’t always show up at the right time. A man who needs someone to listen doesn’t care that I have another thing on my calendar. A conversation that could change someone’s life may not look productive when it happens. And sometimes the Kingdom work God puts directly in front of me doesn’t look anything like the work I planned to accomplish that day.
So where is my time going?
That question keeps coming back.
How am I spending my time, talent, and treasure? Who am I feeding? What am I feeding them? What needs have I filled lately? Have I only been filling my own? Who am I investing in? Who am I sharpening? Who is hearing the Good News because I was willing to slow down long enough to speak it?
I can’t save the world.
I know that.
But I can invest in one person.
I can listen to one person. I can encourage one person. I can disciple one person. I can share the Gospel with one person. I can make room for one person. I can give something away. I can choose to serve when it isn’t convenient. I can put down whatever I am holding tightly enough to reach toward someone else.
Maybe that’s what living open-handed looks like.
It doesn’t necessarily mean abandoning everything I have. It means recognizing that none of it was ever truly mine. My time isn’t mine. My abilities aren’t mine. My money isn’t mine. My opportunities aren’t mine. My influence isn’t mine. Even the ministry I dream about isn’t mine. They are gifts placed in my hands for a season.
And if they are gifts, then I have to ask what the Giver wants me to do with them.
That brings me back to the Corinthians. They wanted to live like kings. Paul was reminding them that the kingdom of God does not look like the kingdoms of this world. The world tells us that greatness means being served. Jesus showed us that greatness looks like serving. The world tells us that strength means having power over others. Jesus demonstrated strength through surrender. The world tells us to protect ourselves. Jesus laid down His life.
The cross completely disrupts our definition of success.
And maybe that’s why Paul’s words matter so much to me. I can easily measure my life using the world’s measuring stick and then simply add Jesus to the equation. I can look at productivity, success, comfort, influence, recognition, possessions, and accomplishment and ask how well I’m doing. But Jesus doesn’t seem particularly interested in whether I have built an impressive throne. He is interested in whether I have surrendered it.
Am I willing to get off it?
Am I willing to let someone else go first?
Am I willing to serve when nobody notices?
Am I willing to give without getting anything back?
Am I willing to sacrifice my convenience for someone else’s need?
Am I willing to allow God to interrupt the plans I’ve spent so much time making?
Am I willing to be misunderstood if obedience requires it?
Those questions aren’t meant to become another list of things I have to accomplish to prove that I’m a good Christian. That would just build another throne. This isn’t a self-deprecating rant about how I am failing at everything. It is a self-reflection about where God is moving in my life and whether I am paying attention.
Because I don’t want to spend my life sitting on a throne that Jesus asked me to surrender.
I want to move.
There are things God has placed in front of me that I don’t fully understand yet. There are dreams and visions that I believe may be part of what He is doing. There are people I believe He has placed around me for a reason. There are opportunities to serve, teach, encourage, create, disciple, and proclaim the Good News. I don’t want to run ahead of Him trying to make all of it happen. But I also don’t want to sit comfortably and wait for everything to become convenient before I obey.
There is a difference between preparation and hesitation.
There is a difference between wisdom and fear.
There is a difference between stewardship and control.
And I need the Holy Spirit to help me recognize the difference.
Maybe the question isn’t whether I am suffering enough.
Maybe the question is whether I am surrendered enough.
Maybe I don’t need to go looking for persecution. Maybe I need to stop avoiding obedience simply because it might cost me something.
Jesus has already shown me what the cost looks like.
He didn’t stay on a throne.
He stepped down.
He came near.
He served.
He suffered.
He gave.
He loved.
And He calls me to follow Him.
That doesn’t mean I have to manufacture some dramatic sacrifice. It may mean something much simpler. It may mean giving up an hour of my time for someone who needs me. It may mean listening instead of fixing. It may mean sharing what I have instead of protecting it. It may mean choosing generosity when nobody knows I gave. It may mean sitting with someone in their pain instead of rushing toward my next task. It may mean taking the Gospel to the person right in front of me instead of constantly dreaming about reaching people at the ends of the earth.
I have a Jerusalem.
I have people right around me.
Maybe I need to start there.
The world will still be there tomorrow. The ministry will still be there. The plans will still be there. The studio can wait. The next project can wait. The next episode can wait.
But the person standing in front of me may need me today.
And maybe that is where I find out whether I am really ready to get off the throne.
A Prayer for Today
Papa,
We have been called to follow Christ. Your will for us is to be conformed to His image. You have told us to love You and love others as we love ourselves, but sometimes I wonder if I have made that more complicated than it needs to be. I know how I care for myself. I’m fed. I’m clothed. I have a place to sleep. I have relationships. I have things that bring me comfort. So who am I feeding? What am I feeding them? What needs have I filled lately that weren’t my own?
I know I can’t save the world, but I can invest in one person at a time. Help me see that person. Help me stop looking so far ahead that I miss the person standing right in front of me. Give me eyes to see where You are already working and courage to step into it. I don’t want to spend my life planning Kingdom work while missing the Kingdom work You have already placed in my hands.
Papa, show me where I am sitting on my own throne.
Show me where comfort has become more important than obedience. Show me where I have protected my time instead of giving it. Show me where I have protected my resources instead of sharing them. Show me where I have protected my reputation instead of speaking truth in love. Show me where I have been waiting for everything to be convenient before I move.
Teach me to live open-handed.
Everything I have came from You anyway.
My time.
My talent.
My treasure.
My opportunities.
My relationships.
My dreams.
My ministry.
All of it.
If You want to use it, use it.
If You want me to give it away, help me give it away.
If You want me to wait, teach me to wait.
If You want me to move, give me courage to move.
I don’t want to be comfortable if comfort keeps me from following You.
I don’t want to be so focused on building something that I forget to love the people right in front of me.
I don’t want to be so concerned about reaching the ends of the earth that I neglect my Jerusalem.
So send me.
Not because I have everything figured out.
Not because I am ready.
Not because I am strong enough.
Send me because You are faithful.
Let me move with joy and suffering.
With purpose and plans.
With provision and providence.
Help me get off the throne and follow You.
Let’s go.
Amen.
Reflection Questions
- Where have you allowed comfort to become the measure of whether your life is going well?
- What might God be asking you to surrender that you have been calling responsibility, preparation, or wisdom?
- Who is the person directly in front of you that you may be overlooking while dreaming about reaching people farther away?
- Where is your time currently going, and what does that reveal about what you actually value?
- What would living more open-handed with your time, talent, and treasure look like in this particular season?
- Where might obedience become inconvenient for you, and what are you tempted to do when that happens?
- If Jesus interrupted your plans today and placed a need directly in front of you, would you recognize the interruption as an inconvenience or an opportunity?
Final Thought
Maybe following Jesus isn’t always going to feel like winning.
Maybe sometimes it will feel like stepping down.
Stepping down from recognition. Stepping down from comfort. Stepping down from control. Stepping down from the need to be right, the need to be noticed, or the need to have everything figured out.
And maybe that’s okay.
Because Jesus stepped down first.
He didn’t ask me to go somewhere He hasn’t already gone.
So I don’t need to know what the whole road looks like.
I just need to be willing to take the next step.
Get off the throne.
Open my hands.
Look at the person in front of me.
And follow Him.