Sermon for the 3rd Sunday in Lent
March 23, 2025
You all know that one of my heroes is John Calvin. I might be the only person you’ve ever met who’s read Calvin’s Institutes all the way through. And I’ve done it at least twice.
Though it’s not a popular stance, I think there’s a lot to love about Calvin and there’s very little I disagree with him on. But one of the nicer things about him is that, even though he was a product of his time (the early 1500’s), you absolutely cannot use him to support antisemitism. You certainly can’t say this about many other theologians of his day, especially Martin Luther. But Calvin treated Israel with deep respect.
Yes, it’s true that he didn’t talk about Jews with the kind of sensitivity we might find among 21st-century Christian scholars. But nowhere in his writings do you find vitriol or hatred or scapegoating. Instead, what you read, from start to finish, is the church. To Calvin, Noah and Abraham and David and Isaiah were no less members of the church than Peter and Paul and James and John. Israel in the wilderness was no less the church than the Corinthians gathered for the Lord’s Supper.
You’re probably wondering what on earth this has to do with the scripture reading you just heard. It may seem disconnected so far, but I assure you, I haven’t left the path completely. I just want to emphasize something about Paul that we see confirmed 1500 years later by Calvin—and that’s that the God of Israel is the God of Jesus is the God of Paul. God’s future is not disconnected from God’s past.
And this is the context of 1 Corinthians 10:12-13. Paul’s theme here is trusting in God versus relying on yourself. And before he gets to what we heard this morning, Paul has been talking about Israel in the wilderness. He talks about several times when they thought they could rely on themselves, rather than trusting in God. And that’s the context for that opening statement: If you think you’re standing strong, be careful not to fall [1 Cor. 10:12]. There’s another way of saying this that is more well-known, and this other way also comes from the Bible. It’s found in Proverbs 16:18—Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall. This is usually shortened to “Pride goeth before a fall.”
Americans should know a lot about this. We have a reputation when we travel to other countries of being rather arrogant. For example, I once heard of a woman who was in a store in Colombia and was in desperate need of honey. Except she didn’t know the word for honey. But that was fine. She knew enough Spanish to get her where she needed to be. She went to a store employee and asked for the liquid made by bees (líquido hecho por abejas)… except she got her vowels mixed up, and she asked for liquid made by sheep (líquido hecho por ovejas). This wouldn’t have been so tragic had she not been so strident in her request.
And lest you think I can’t see the beam in my own eye, I, too, have tripped over my own pride in much the same way. I remember when I was living in Frankfurt, Germany, some guy once asked me how to get to the main train station. It was a little ways off from where we were, but I knew just how to get there if I’d needed to walk, so I told him to keep going this way until he got to the Old Opera (Alte Oper), then turn left. Except, in my pride at being able to provide the answer, I thoughtlessly added an extra letter, and told him to turn left at the old victim (Opfer). I was quite impressed with myself, until after we’d parted company and I realized my mistake. I still cringe when I wonder what he must’ve thought.
But Israel’s pride in their own abilities had much greater consequences than finding honey in a grocery store or giving directions to the train station. Repeatedly, God had shown them that they could trust God, and that trusting God was their salvation. But they kept relying on their own strength and their own logic, and many times over, it was their downfall.
So Christians in Corinth were still living out the drama of Israel in the wilderness. But Paul went further. He compared the exodus to baptism, when Israel was saved by following a cloud through the sea. And he reminded the Corinthians that Israel stayed alive by eating and drinking what God provided—manna from heaven and the water from the rock—just as these Corinthian Christians took part in the Lord’s Supper.
I think the best way for us to understand what Paul is trying to tell us here is to think about having a broken leg or a badly sprained ankle, and using a crutch or a cane. We readily acknowledge our need for help—we can’t walk without it. But it’s not permanent. Soon enough, we’ll return to our default condition and move about with no outside help.
But God’s grace isn’t like that, and neither is the human condition. No matter how independent we were brought up to think of ourselves, our default setting is neediness. We’re not going to make it without God. God isn’t a temporary crutch to be thrown off when we re-gain our independence. As Augustine prayed to God, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” When Jesus asked his closest disciples if they wanted to leave him just as everyone else seemed to be doing, Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life” [John 6:68].
And so our response to God’s grace isn’t antsiness until we can shake off our need for God, but a continual attitude of Gratitude for God’s love.
With this in mind, let’s remember that the specific situation that Paul is referring to here is the temptation to partake of the culture that surrounds them in Corinth. If these followers of Christ wanted to be part of society, if they wanted to have any social life beyond going to church, then they would have to take part in pagan festivities. And the temptation was strong.
Just about everybody longs for acceptance, and just about everybody wants to have a good time. And so, many Christians thought they could attend functions—usually meals—dedicated to pagan gods (often to the emperor himself). And Paul concedes that this is possible. It’s not the eating and drinking that is the problem. It’s the lifestyle that keeping such company leads to. It’s the values that these new friends represent. These—not the food itself—are what’s not compatible with how Jesus lived and what his followers are called to.
And we can’t say, I’m safe: I’ve been baptized and I take part in the Lord’s Supper. Because remember, Israel experienced the baptism of Moses and ate the spiritual food in the wilderness, and they weren’t safe from going astray. And so, Paul affirms,
The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, he will show you a way out so that you can endure.
—1 Cor. 10:13
This is a popular verse with many Christians. It’s heard as a promise of God for each individual believer that we can overcome temptation, because God will always provide a way out, a way to escape. The “way out,” though, is not some magical exit sign that falls from heaven whenever we get ourselves too mixed up in the wrong thing. It’s a path that we need to train our eyes to see, a way that we recognize because it’s already familiar to us.
Apparently the Corinthians thought the sacraments were the way out. Once again, “As long as I’ve been baptized and as long as I take communion, I’ll be safe,” they seemed to be saying. But Paul would have responded that it’s not religious rituals, but a relationship with Christ that puts us on the right path and keeps us there. When we find ourselves mixed up with the wrong crowd, overcome by a political agenda that is incompatible with our faith, or tempted to do the wrong thing, it’s knowing Christ that makes the difference. I hear a lot of people say that claiming Christ as your personal Lord and Savior is the answer, but these are just words—and not even scriptural words at that.
It's more ongoing and less mechanical than that, really—but not in the least difficult. First, the way out involves a consistent prayer life—not memorized prayers (though these can help when you need something to get you started), but pouring out your thoughts to God, and meditating in silence so that your heart is open to God’s leading.
Second, the way out requires reading and pondering the scriptures. We may not understand everything we read, and we may actually read passages that are disagreeable to us. But the fact that we’re thinking about what all this means will already point us in the right direction.
And finally, a grammatical point that might make more difference than anything else: Notice that the word “you” occurs five times in our translation of v. 13. It’s only four times in the original Greek, but there’s something we probably aren’t seeing here. And that is that Paul wasn’t writing this to any one of the Corinthians. None of them could hear this verse as an individual warning, or as advice to any individual. That’s because in every instance Paul refers to you, he’s talking not to a person, but to the entire Corinthian church.
Perhaps there’s no way out for you as a lone Christian. But God has provided a way out to you all, that is, the whole church. Through genuine participation in the body of Christ, we can find the way; we can open doors that seemed closed before. When darkness surrounds us, our brother can light up the night. When we are afraid, our sister can share her courage. When we are weak, our brothers and sisters can lend us their strength. Whatever we lack, the church has. And whatever the church might lack, it can be found among the gifts God that God has given me, or any one of you.
God is faithful, and won’t send you any more than you can stand. But if you can’t find your own way out, then let us look for it together.
—©2025 Sam Greening
