Blurring the focus

This week's study is on 1 Corinthians 1:11-17:

My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”

Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul? I thank God that I did not baptize any of you except Crispus and Gaius, so no one can say that you were baptized in my name. (Yes, I also baptized the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I don’t remember if I baptized anyone else.) For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with wisdom and eloquence, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.

This is one of Paul's "You're doing it wrong" letters to one of the churches he'd helped plant. In this case, we see the roots of denominationalism, which is itself rooted in religiosity. The body of Christ, the capital-C Church, was divided against itself because people were missing the point of Christ's sacrifice. People were identifying with various preachers, pastors, ministers, priests, and religious figures.

The problem with that is twofold. First, they're pointing to people, and not to God. If you say "I follow Pastor Rick" or "I follow Saint Francis" or "I follow Andy" or "I follow the Bible studies I get off the internet," who gets the glory? If your life has changed for the better, is that because of the saving grace of a person, or has God worked with you through that person, or even directly? I love how Paul puts it, referring to himself in the third person: "Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptised in the name of Paul?" Credit is glory.

The second part of the problem is that in giving credit to men, and not directly to God, you empty the gospel of its power. If we really are imperfect, and really have run up an unpayable debt of sin, and if our righteousness really is as worthless rags, how then can we ourselves be responsible for saving someone else, or performing a miracle, or teaching them some truth that didn't come from us? We can't even save ourselves! How can the glory be ours, when God works through us? How can we have a better gospel than Christ gave us? We can't even match what he did! How are we going to do better? If men can do it, what do we need Christ for?

In shifting our focus from God to men, we divide the body of Christ. If each of us is imperfect, then our Christlikeness is going to be imperfect in comparison to Christ. Each of us will fail in horribly different ways. But we can't see it. So we compare ourselves and our churches and we come to the conclusion that we're just a bit more handsome than the other monkeys and quite a bit smarter. Multiply that times the number of people in history who have managed to gather people to themselves without seeing the big picture, and you have the splintered Church of today.

This is a great stronghold of religiosity. People sneer about some denomination not believing in this or that spiritual gift. They turn their noses up at the weakness of another's credentials, or the fact that they don't have an unbroken line of discipleship reaching all the way back to Saint Peter. They complain about the uninspiring worship, or the glitzy decor of their churches, or the boring sermons, or the anachronostic fashion of their ministers and congregation. It's all rooted in exaltation of self. "I had the good sense to choose the One True Church and not that flawed one over there." "My church's covering makes me a better person than yours." "Our perfect doctrine and catchy worship will get us into heaven."

Paul points how how ridiculous it is to blur the focus. If it's a matter of good preaching, or of doing a bunch of deeds, where is Christ? What separates us from motivational speakers or magicians then? Why did Christ have to die, if we can just talk away our problems or solve them with our own wisdom? Did he die so that we could do a lousy job of competing with him? Is it God's power that heals, or the televangelist's who proclaims it? Does Christ intervene with power to win back the lost, or does he do it to shore up some random reverend's tithe revenues? If Christ's sacrifice has the purpose we say it does, how can we simultaneously claim sides against each other?

Paul's position when he heard about this going on in the church was that he wished he hadn't been seen doing any of the things people remember him for. He's pouring himself out to these people saying "Look! It's Jesus" and the people are saying "Look it's Paul! He knows the way to Jesus!" How frustrating! His whole reason for being there was to restore the direct relationship between people and Jesus and they're focusing on him instead.

If it was about Paul, it couldn't have ever been about Jesus. If Paul was sufficient, then Jesus died for nothing. If Paul's wisdom, and Paul's preaching style, and Paul's dedication to ministry, and Paul's miracle working power were sufficient to save people, then Christ's sacrifice was irrelevant. Following Paul kills the gospel. Human power empties the crucifixion of its power. What could be more horrible than that? So, just like with the sexual immorality that was rampant in the church at the time, Paul was like "Nooooooooooooo!"

Who do you serve? Where is your focus? If you ran a Bible study, could you tolerate people comparing you favorably to other teachers? Could you be at peace with someone saying "My leg was healed because you prayed for me?" If someone were to say that your church changed their life, would you agree that that's what happened? Does Christ have a place at all? Or have we emptied his sacrifice of its power?

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