Tag: 1 Corinthians

The SCANDAL of the SPIRIT: Why “CARNAL Christians” Aren’t an OXYMORON (And Why That Might SAVE Your Faith)

Imagine this: You’re scrolling through your feed, and there it is—a viral thread from a self-proclaimed “Bible-believing” influencer, flaunting their latest conference gig, designer Bible in hand, while rumors swirl of backstage drama, ego clashes, and a ministry imploding from the inside. Sound familiar? It’s not 2025’s breaking news; it’s the Corinthian church, circa AD 55, live and in technicolor. Paul didn’t mince words: These folks were sanctified in Christ, Spirit-sealed saints—yet knee-deep in jealousy, sexual scandals, and factional fistfights that would make a reality TV producer blush. How? If faith means new life in the Spirit, why do believers act like they’re auditioning for The Walking Dead?

If you’ve ever stared at your own mirror—preaching grace on Sunday, but nursing grudges by Monday—or wondered why the “victorious Christian life” feels more like a grind than a glory, this isn’t just ancient history. It’s your story, my story, and the raw, unfiltered heartbeat of Scripture. Buckle up: What if the Bible’s biggest “contradictions” aren’t flaws in God’s logic, but blueprints for the messiest, most hopeful transformation imaginable? Let’s unpack the tension that’s tripped up theologians for centuries—and emerge with a faith that’s battle-tested, not bulletproof.

The Foolish Strength That Shatters Expectations

To the Greeks, it was intellectual suicide—God, weak and wheezing on a Roman gibbet? To the Jews, a cosmic scandal—Messiah as criminal, not conqueror? Consider the hook that hooked the world: a crucified Messiah…Paul, ever the provocateur, flips the script in 1 Corinthians 1:25: “The foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.”

Don’t miss the mic drop. This isn’t God having an off day or Scripture winking at infallibility. It’s divine judo—using the world’s metrics against it. What looks like folly (a Savior who loses to win) and frailty (nailing divine power to a tree) is the ultimate power play. God doesn’t flex like Caesar; He subverts. The cross isn’t Plan B; it’s the strategy that exposes human “wisdom” as a house of cards.

Think about it: The same God who chose stuttering Moses over slick Pharaohs, and ragtag fishermen over Ivy League scribes, thrives on reversal. In Corinth, Paul calls out the elite’s obsession with eloquent orators and status symbols. God’s response? He picks the “weak things of the world to shame the strong” (1:27). It’s not that God is weak—it’s that His strength hides in the overlooked: the single mom’s prayer chain, the addict’s midnight surrender, the quiet act of forgiveness that no one applauds. Jaw-dropping truth: Your “not enough” might be exactly what heaven’s betting on.

Fleshly Saints? The Tension That Makes Grace Dangerous

But here’s where it gets gritty. Fast-forward to 1 Corinthians 3: Paul slaps the label “men of the flesh” on these believers—not as a demotion to unbeliever status, but a gut-punch to their immaturity. They’ve got the Spirit’s down payment (2 Corinthians 1:22), yet they’re squabbling like kids over toys, chasing divisive leaders like groupies. Jealousy? Check. Pride? Overflowing. Division? It’s their brand.

Here’s the rub: This shouldn’t be. Believers are called to unity, Spirit-led wisdom that “is first pure, then peaceable” (James 3:17). James doesn’t pull punches—fleshly “wisdom” is “earthly, sensual, devilish” (3:15), breeding disorder and every evil practice. And Romans 8? It lands like a thunderclap: “The mind set on the flesh is hostile to God… it does not submit to God’s law, indeed it cannot” (8:7). Living flesh-ward? That’s death row, even for the regenerate.

So how do carnal Corinthians cram into the “in the Spirit” club? Paul’s not contradicting himself; he’s layering reality like an onion. Romans paints the big picture: Unbelievers are of the flesh—a fixed address in rebellion, where even demons “believe” (James 2:19) but tremble in terror, not transformation. No surrender, no swap— just head knowledge without heart yield.

Corinth? That’s the in-between: Identity secured (you’re in Christ, temple of the Holy One), but practice lagging like a glitchy OS. They’ve crossed kingdoms— from death to life—but the old code crashes the party. The Spirit’s in the house, but the flesh lounges on the couch, remote in hand, dictating the channel. It’s enmity, yes—Paul warns if you “live according to the flesh you will die” (Romans 8:13)—but it’s not eviction notice yet. It’s wake-up call: “You were washed, you were sanctified… Do you not know?” (1 Corinthians 6:11, 3:16).

The Corinthians’ mess (incest scandals, lawsuit lunacy, idol feasts gone wild) defies logic, sure—spilling into outright hatred and disunity that fractures the family like a bad divorce. John doesn’t let that slide: “Whoever hates his brother is in the darkness… the darkness has blinded his eyes” (1 John 2:9-11), a blackout signaling no intimate “knowing” of God, whose essence is love (4:8). For the unregenerate, hatred’s home turf—default blindness. But carnal saints? They’ve known Him (Spirit-sealed union, ginōskō intimacy), yet flesh eclipses it, walking shadows while the light indwells. It’s no permanent night; confession flips the switch (1 John 1:7-9), turning discord’s debris into dawn’s discipline.

Let’s sharpen that warning with the Greek: Paul’s “you will die” (apothnēskō) isn’t eternal separation—your grip in Christ is unbreakable (Rom. 8:38-39). But it’s a premature “perish,” yanking the earthly tent early (2 Cor. 5:1) as loving discipline. Echoes Corinth’s Lord’s Table scandal: Unworthy feasting amid division? Judgment hits—weakness, sickness, and “sleep” (koimaō, death’s euphemism; 1 Cor. 11:30). Not unsaved outsiders, but the church under God’s hand, urged to “judge ourselves” (v. 31) and mortify (thanatoō, root thanatos—death’s active kill) the flesh now, by the Spirit. Fleshly drift doesn’t unchild you; it accelerates checkout to preserve the soul.

That drift unchecked? It demands church surgery. Paul escalates in 1 Corinthians 5:9-13: “Purge the evil person from among you”—expel the unrepentant immoral (incest flaunted? Leaven the lump, v. 6), handing them “to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved” (v. 5). Harsh? Yes—distance as wake-up whip, stripping insider shields to shatter carnality. But it’s provisional: Outsiders? God judges (v. 13). Insiders? Purge to protect the temple (3:17), assuming restoration. Echo 2 Thessalonians 3:13-15: “Keep away… that he may be ashamed. Do not regard him as an enemy, but warn him as a brother.” Discipline’s the scalpel that sutures—tough love looping to forgiveness (2 Cor. 2:6-8), because the “evil” act doesn’t eclipse the sealed son.

James echoes the urgency: Devilish wisdom isn’t neutral; it’s sabotage. But he and Paul aren’t tag-teaming to disqualify—they’re tag-teaming to ignite. Yet Paul parents them through it: Rebuke the flesh, but root in grace. You’re not “just a sinner saved by grace” forever; you’re a saint learning to walk that out.

Milk to Meat: The Brutal Beauty of the Journey

New birth? Instant. Like flipping a switch—darkness yields to dawn. But sanctification? That’s the marathon in the mud. Peter urges “babes” to crave “pure spiritual milk” (1 Peter 2:2) not as a consolation prize, but rocket fuel. It’s sincere, unadulterated Word that whets the appetite for meat—the deep cuts of doctrine, discipline, death to self.

Sanctification’s no straight shot; it’s a spiral—unlearning the lies, laying aside “all malice… envy… slander” (1 Peter 2:1). The flesh fights dirty: “One more peek at that resentment won’t hurt.” But every “no”—every Scripture soak, every confession circle—carves rivers for resurrection life. It’s the cross reapplied: Die to self, rise in His strength.

And that dying? It’s fire-tested. Paul warns in 1 Corinthians 3:15: “If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” Carnal “buildings”—jealous empires, pride-fueled projects—crumble in the blaze, costing reward but not relationship. Echoing Jesus’ stark line in Mark 9:49: “For everyone will be salted with fire.” Believer or not, trials preserve like salt in flames—refining the pure, consuming the dross. Corinth’s chaos? Their wood, hay, stubble (3:12). But the gold-heart saint? Emerges, singed but standing.

Corinth’s mess proves it: Grace for limpers, not just leapers. Paul parents: Rebuke the baby steps, but root in the reality—“You are God’s temple.” Heroes of faith? They hobble too—Moses murders, David dallies, Peter denies—yet God rewires them. Your stumbles? Spotlights for the Savior. Feed the Spirit—Word, prayer, community—and watch the flesh starve. It’s not perfection; it’s progression. The cross that looked foolish? It’s your pattern: Die daily, rise freer.

So, What’s Your Next Step in the Mess?

If Corinth’s your mirror, don’t despair—pivot. Audit the “couch-squatters”: What’s hogging your mental bandwidth? Swap screen scrolls for Scripture soaks. Confess the carnal corners—James promises wisdom to the asking (1:5). And remember: The God who turned weakness to world-shaking power is in your corner, turning your “not yet” into “watch this.”

Doubts answered? Maybe not all at once. But in this divine reversal, your questions become kindling for the fire. Faith isn’t a finish line; it’s a fellowship—with a God who meets you in the mud and marches you home. Let Corinth crack your mirror–and watch God reverse the shards.

Rekindling ‘FIRST LOVE’ in Faith

Summary:

The biblical admonition to the Ephesian church about abandoning their ‘first love’ serves as a poignant reminder for believers to maintain the primacy of spiritual devotion. This ‘first love’ refers not to a mere emotional beginning but to the prioritization of Christ in every aspect of life. Over time, even the noblest pursuits can overshadow this fundamental commitment. The Ephesian believers, once fervent in their faith, allowed their spiritual ardour to diminish as doctrinal precision took precedence over their early devotion characterized by repentance, communal worship, and prayer. As the body is united in its diversity, so are believers called to be one with Christ, sharing in the communal and spiritual sustenance of the faith (inspired by 1 Corinthians 10:17/12:12). This unity is echoed in our bond to Christ, as we become an extension of His essence – Ephesians 5:30. To love Christ is to love the brethren, for harming one’s conscience is akin to sinning against Christ Himself – 1 Corinthians 8:12. The call to return to ‘first love’ is thus a summons to re-engage with the ‘first works’ of faith—studying scripture, fellowship, communal worship, and prayer—thus keeping the flame of their love for Christ and His community vibrant.

In the scriptures, particularly Revelation 2:4, we encounter a profound call to introspection, where the faithful are reminded, “But I have this against you, that you have departed from your primary devotion.” This admonition is not merely a reference to the nascent affection one might feel at the beginning of their spiritual walk, although that fervour is a component of it. This primal affection, while earnest, is yet nascent and must mature through a deeper comprehension of the teachings and the path laid out by Jesus.

The term ‘first’ from the original Greek ‘prōtos’ signifies not just chronological precedence but also pre-eminence in priority and importance (Referencing Strong’s #4413). Thus, the phrase “You have abandoned your first love” suggests a relegation of Jesus to a lower status, no longer holding the paramount position in one’s life.

It’s a subtle yet pernicious tactic of diversion, where even the noblest pursuits, be it family, career, leisure, or even ministry work, can insidiously eclipse our spiritual centre. The adversary need not coerce a denial of faith; a mere shift of focus suffices to dilute our devotion. A ministry, however sincere, when not rooted in Christ and tinged with personal ambition, becomes an unwitting tool for spiritual discord.

Rick Renner offers insight into the Greek construction of this verse, contrasting it with the King James Version. The phrase “the first one” comes from ‘ten proten,’ highlighting the kind of love—ardent, reverential, and filled with awe—that the Ephesians initially experienced. This is a call to recall that first overwhelming conviction that led to transformative actions, such as renouncing past ties that impede spiritual growth, as seen in Acts 19:18,19.

Decades later, this once fiery zeal has simmered to a mere glow, as noted by John in his Patmian revelation. The original Greek ‘aphiemi’ indicates a deliberate abandonment of this fervent love. Despite continuing in service, the Ephesians’ initial intensity had waned significantly.

Their dedication was once visible in their comprehensive devotion—to teaching, to community, to shared meals, and to prayer. But with time, the focus shifted to theological correctness, inadvertently neglecting the foundational acts of love and devotion both to each other and to Christ.

To rekindle this ‘first love,’ a return to these ‘first works’ is imperative, engaging once more with the elemental practices of faith that fuel devotion and unity within the community.

From Zeal to Vigilance: The Ephesian Shift

The Ephesian church’s spiritual arc is emblematic of a common dynamic in faith communities. The initial spiritual awakening is often marked by a fervent zeal—a pure and undiluted love for the Divine. The Ephesians’ early days were characterized by profound acts of repentance and a wholesale commitment to their newfound faith, as they willingly abandoned former practices to embrace a life in Christ.

However, over the years, as the community matured, their focus subtly shifted. The church’s battle against heresy, while crucial, began to overshadow the simplicity of their devotion. They transitioned from a body of believers passionately in love with Jesus to a congregation deeply entrenched in doctrinal accuracy and spiritual warfare.

This evolution is not inherently negative; growth in understanding and the capacity to discern truth from falsehood are marks of maturity. Yet, when these pursuits overshadow the heartfelt worship and community that once defined them, spiritual fervour can wane. The message to the Ephesians is clear: they had inadvertently let go of the fervent love that once defined their collective identity.

Rediscovering Foundational Christian Practices

The crux of the matter lies in the balance between doctrinal soundness and the practice of love in its most genuine form. It is not enough to be theologically astute; believers are called to exhibit the love of Christ in all interactions, extending grace even to those in error, much like Jesus did.

The passage highlights that while the Ephesians were correct in rejecting the deeds of the Nicolaitans, they had, in the process, lost the art of love—the very essence of their ‘first works.’ They had become adept at identifying and combating heresy but had neglected the fundamental Christian disciplines of teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer—activities that foster community and spiritual vitality.

Practical Steps to Return to 'First Works'

For modern believers, the admonition to the Ephesian church serves as a poignant reminder. To rekindle the first love, one must engage in the ‘first works’—simple, yet profound practices that build up the faith and the community of believers:

  1. Devotion to Scriptural Teachings: Immerse in the teachings of the scriptures, not merely for knowledge but to allow it to transform character and relationships.
  2. Fellowship: Cultivate a community that thrives on mutual support, understanding, and shared experiences, remembering that faith is not a solitary journey.
  3. Communal Worship: Revisit the joy of communal worship, recognizing the unique presence of Christ in the midst of gathered believers.
  4. Prayer: Engage in fervent prayer, both individually and collectively, as a vital lifeline to the Divine, nurturing a constant and intimate dialogue with God.

In essence, the journey back to ‘first love’ is a journey inward to the heart

of spiritual passion and outward to the expression of that passion through tangible acts of devotion and love. It is a call to remember that the heart of faith is not found in the intellectualization of doctrine alone, but in the lived experience of love, both divine and shared among believers.

To further explore this journey, let’s consider the following steps:

  1. Revisiting Early Convictions: Reflect on the initial moments of faith—what stirred the soul, what commitments were made, and how they can be reawakened or reinvented in the current context.
  2. Engaging in Self-Examination: Periodically assess personal and communal priorities, ensuring that love for Christ and His people remains central, not peripheral, to daily life and ministry.
  3. Intentional Action: Take deliberate steps to incorporate ‘first works’ into regular practice, ensuring that these actions are not mere routines but heartfelt expressions of faith and love.

By consciously integrating these elements into the fabric of spiritual life, believers can strive to maintain the vibrancy and depth of their first love, ensuring that their flame of faith burns bright and constant.

Conclusion: Embracing the Essence of Early Devotion

In the final analysis, the message to the Ephesian church in Revelation serves not just as a historical recount but as an enduring beacon for contemporary believers. The call to return to the ‘first love’ is a timeless exhortation to prioritize our spiritual devotion amidst the myriad demands of life. It is an invitation to continually re-evaluate what holds pre-eminence in our hearts and to ensure that our initial, fervent love for the Divine is not eclipsed by the subsequent layers of complexity that life and even ministry can bring.

The ‘first love’ that Jesus speaks of is not merely a nostalgic yearning for the simplicity of the past but a profound reminder that the core of our faith should always be characterized by a genuine love for God and an unpretentious love for others. This love is manifest in the ‘first works’—the simple, yet powerful acts of fellowship, worship, and communal support that bind a community of believers together and to Christ.

As we draw insights from the journey of the Ephesian believers, let us be vigilant to not let our passion for Christ and His teachings become a smouldering ember. Instead, let us fan into flame the ardour that once defined us, engaging in the sacred practices that keep our faith alive and vibrant. By doing so, we ensure that our love for Christ remains as intense and committed as it was at the dawn of our spiritual journey.

In a world rife with distractions, the challenge is to maintain that ‘first love’—to live out our faith with the same intensity and purity that captured our hearts when we first believed. Let this be our enduring commitment: to love deeply, serve faithfully, and walk humbly with our God, keeping our spiritual fervour alive for all our days.