Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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Paul writes to the tiny church at Corinth which he had established some years earlier, now a beachhead in a pagan world. (There were probably no more members in the Corinthian church, when Paul’s letter arrived, than we have in this room today. Most likely they were meeting quietly, if not secretly, in someone’s home. No doubt struggling to find their proper role in the heart of “Sin City,” -- for Corinth was a busy port, a place of sailors and their haunts.)

Paul stresses the joys of Christian living. This is the Great Apostle at his best: “Please,” he writes, “-- please don’t squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given us.” Well, OK, Paul, tell us about this life -- this wonderful life we mustn’t waste? What’s involved? “Well, there’s…” (He says all this in one short paragraph) -- there’s “hard times, tough times, bad times.” There’s being “beaten up, jailed, and mobbed.” There’s “working hard, working late, working without eating.” And let’s not forget “being blamed, slandered, mistrusted, and ignored.” Plus, of course, “being beaten within an inch of our lives, begin rumored to be dead, immersed in tears, living on handouts, having nothing…” I bet that cheered them up.

Paul is talking about himself and his own life. Apparently a few church members at Corinth had been questioning Paul’s his bone fides as an apostle. “Just look at him,” they said. “He’s a pretty poor example. He’s in and out of jail, always on the wrong side of the law, always being beaten up, always broke.” Isn’t there someone classier we could follow? But Paul, thank God, didn’t take that bait. He didn’t try to refute the charges. (“Now, wait just one minute! I’ve only spent four nights in jail in the past six months. And not everyone hates me.”) No. He glorifies the life he has lived, especially the hardships, and commends such a life to the Corinthians as “marvelous.” To people who are looking for an easier way, Paul offers the hardest way of all.

But it is not all doom and gloom – far from it. I didn’t read every word of what Paul wrote. What he actually put on paper should be inscribed somewhere on the walls of every Christian church, so we could check our performance. “…true to our word, though distrusted; ignored by the world, but recognized by God; terrifically alive, though rumored to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives, but refusing to die; immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all.” The paradox of Christian living, so contrary to all the self-serving wisdom of our age:.

Make me a captive, Lord,
And then I shall be free.
Force me to render up my sword,
And I shall conqueror be.

If you wanaa get, you gotta give. If you wanna live you gotta die. If you wanna sit at the head of the table, you gotta seat yourself at the foot. If you wanna be served, you gotta serve. If you wanna be first, you gotta be last. Jesus said these things. Paul said them. The early Christians repeated them over and over again to themselves, in the face of great trials When will we ever learn? This is how we un-narrow ourselves. This is how we avoid being pinched-up people. This is how we live “ openly and spaciously,” as Peterson translates it. I want to live openly and spaciously. I don’t want to be a “wretch, concentrated all in self.” I don’t want to squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given me. When will we ever hear?

There is a side-point here, which is important. Paul reminds the Corinthians that when they live this Christian life, this life of sacrifice but also of deep joy, people are watching. And, in the eyes of most people, it’s seldom the big splashy things that count. Paul writes, “Our work as God’s servants gets validated – or not – in the details.” We say, “The devil is in the details.” Paul says, “God is in the details.” One young woman described her religious upbringing, especially her father’s influence on it, this way: “He would insist that we all go to church every Sunday. He would sit beside us in the pew, stone-faced, without the slightest hint of any personal involvement. Then we would go home, eat a quick lunch, and Dad would turn on the TV to a football game -- and he would sit on that sofa all afternoon cheering and screaming. He said the right thing about church; he did the right thing by getting us there. But the details of his life, what was obviously exciting to him, gave him away.

You didn’t know Virginia Wilson. I was her pastor, and I think about her from time to time. She was a good, country woman with a cheerful smile. Not educated, not rich. Virginia wasn’t “important” as the world judges importance. She lived quietly for her family, her community and her church. My mental picture of Virginia will always be of her in the kitchen of the church or fire hall, patting oysters, washing dishes, cutting up cabbage for slaw. That’s the way she served – not in big ways but in the details. When she died, quite suddenly, and I sat down to prepare her service, I looked in the church records to see what offices she had held. She had never held one. Nor, I discovered, had she ever been an officer of the Woman’s Auxiliary of the Fire Company. She was just always there, working. There were more flowers at Virginia Wilson’s funeral than at any funeral I have ever conducted. And, at her service, her friends and admirers filled the funeral home and spilled out into the street. Her life, her faith was validated in the details – and everyone knew it.
In his book, Home to Harmony, Dale Gulley tells of Brother Norman, with whom he had gone to seminary, but who wasn’t, as he says, “the brightest bulb” there. When Brother Norman graduated, no church wanted him, so the superintendent suggested that he become a missionary to the Choctaw Indians, where he went without fanfare and began a program to build a modest hall where Choctaw youth could meet and enjoy Christian fellowship. It took a long time to build it, and he got some help from the outside, but Brother Norman did it. And his work among the Indians increased.

The people of Dale Gulley’s church (in the little town of Harmony, several hundred miles from the Choctaw reservation) hear of Brother Norman’s work and decide to fix up an old school bus and deliver it to Brother Norman, to help in his ministry. As it happens, Dale Gulley and two men from his church are delivering that bus on the very day when Mark McGwire has a chance to hit his 62nd home run, and beat Roger Maris’ record. And, as it happens, they are driving the bus right by the stadium in St. Louis where the game is to be played. On the spur of the moment, they buy three tickets from a scalper for $500, and go in, and see the record-breaking homer, a thrill they’ll never forget. Then, way behind schedule, they deliver the bus, arriving late at night. The next day Brother Norman takes them on a tour of the reservation, and it’s clear that he is carrying on an wonderful, quiet ministry to these native Americans. That night, back at home, Dale Gulley is sits on his front porch and thinks about all the excitement of the last two days. “I stayed on the porch thinking. Thinking how we’re so busy cheering the Mark McGwires, we overlook the Brother Normans. This steady man who looks to the Good Shepherd. Never straying, always praying. Impacting the world. Never hitting a home run, but everyday advancing the runners.” Our work as God’s servants gets validated – or not – in the details, in the little things that are really very big.