I don’t think the apostle Paul was an impressive-looking guy. I don’t think there was anything about his appearance that garnered attention. In fact, when it came to such things, Paul was the first to name all the ways he didn’t match up with most people’s idea of a leader—all those conventional measurements we use to size up confidence and competence in others. Those seem to be timeless.
Paul was well aware of how he wasn’t what most had in mind, and he spilled a lot of ink about it. Read Second Corinthians. It’s Paul’s most personal letter. It’s self-reflective and heartfelt. Paul so beautifully, and vulnerably, shares with the Corinthian faithful how his understanding of leadership is different than theirs, that his authority doesn’t come from within but from beyond him, and God’s idea of authority and leadership is one that runs counter to ours.
Paul writes about his bruises, the ones he’s sustained from beatings; his shortcomings and setbacks; and his embarrassing moments in ministry, and he lifts them up as examples of Christ working within and through him. Paul boasted about all the wrong things, which according to him, were all the right things if what we have in mind as our hope and goal is Jesus and His unreasonable victory on the cross. But Paul realized that most people don’t gauge success that way. To think of Jesus’s death upon the cross as something to strive for or live for will forever confuse even the most faithful of us.
I want to read to you what I think are some of the most powerful words in all of scripture. They are Paul’s from the twelfth chapter of Second Corinthians. Paul talks about himself in this way:
“I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know—God knows. And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows—was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell.
“I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses. Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say, or because of these surpassingly great revelations.
“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’
“Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
I’ve struggled this week with what to say this morning. Paul’s letter to the Romans is daunting. It’s huge and full of unreasonably long words and even bigger ideas about God, but it’s a treasure to the Church because it helps us make sense of who Jesus is. Within these chapters, Paul says if you want to know who God is, look at Jesus.
If you want to know what it means to be human, look at Jesus. If you want to know what love is, look at Jesus. If you want to know what grief is, look at Jesus. If you want to know what’s important to God, look at Jesus. If you want to know what leadership looks like, look at Jesus. If you want to know what church should be like, look at Jesus. If you want to know the way we should evaluate how we’re doing, look at what Jesus celebrated. If you want to find God, look at Jesus.
The church’s singular task is to become a community that looks more and more like Jesus. If you don’t have time to wade through all the fancy words in all sixteen chapters of Romans, here’s a Reader’s Digest version for you: The church exists and moves and has its being and purpose for one reason and one reason only, to become a people who strive to look more and more like Jesus.
There’s great joy in Paul’s first words to the Jesus people in Rome. The early church in Rome had its struggles, their internal squabbles, and they’re still not done having them. They mostly had to do with the fact that they were a hybrid church. Half of the church in Rome are Jewish and the other half are Gentiles, people from different places and people groups. Paul is aware of their problems, that they have yet to work all of it out, and he will speak to it later in his letter. But for now, can you notice the joy and longing in Paul’s first words?
He speaks of his eagerness to be with them as well as the sadness he feels because of all that’s gotten in the way of his plans to visit them, but what a joy it will be when the day finally comes when he can be with them. What really grabs me is that he says he longs to see them because then they can be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith. Paul says that he needs them just as much as they need him. Isn’t that striking?
Paul wasn’t just an evangelist; he was a pastor. Paul didn’t have in mind a drive-by Jesusing; he was in it for relationship. He was certain that the members of that congregation had just as much to teach him about Jesus as he had for them. “That you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other's faith.”
See, Paul is already planning his time with them. This is what they’ll do when he gets there. They’ll share the joy of their faith with each other. “Tell me about the Gospel and I’ll tell you about it, too, and we’ll lift each other up and grow one another in God.”
Church, share the Gospel. Jesus should be the first thing on our lips. Tell me more about Jesus and I’ll do that too, and we’ll never get enough. And let’s keep telling each other about Jesus because it’s not one of the things we do; it’s the one thing we do. Everything else can go by the wayside.
Tell me about Jesus and I’ll tell you about Jesus, too, and we’ll never move past the gospel because we never move past our need to hear the gospel. We never move past the gospel; we move deeper down into it. Gospel is the one thing we’re here for. Paul gets church, and his enthusiasm for Jesus is inexhaustible. God is huge and we’re a part of God in Christ, and there’s no keeping it to ourselves.
I want to share in Christ with you, and when we’re together that's what we should talk about. Let’s celebrate all that God is up to. Paul refused to do church without Jesus, and here he is writing his longest and arguably his most important letter to a first-century church, and that’s how he starts. Those are his first words.
Up to about ten years ago, I sat where you sit. I was not a pastor; I was a church member. I had my spot picked out, always on the left side, a little less than halfway back. I’m a Presbyterian just like you are. I love the church. She’s not perfect but she’s my mother. Before I was a pastor, I was quite like you. And as a pastor, I am quite like you. The shepherd of God’s flock is still one of God’s sheep.
I struggle with the same things everyone else does. Like all other pastors, I wrestle with sin, doubt, failure, discouragement, temptation, heartache, anger, bitterness, pride, greed, jealousy, ambition, hurt, loneliness, and despair. I contend for the faith just like you.
In short, I’m a human trying my best to love and serve Jesus and those who Jesus loves, and I happen to believe deeply in and have a great love for the church. That’s how I understand my role. I’m coming up on 10 years of being an ordained pastor and in the last decade, I haven’t worked a single day.
The church’s singular task is to become a community that looks more and more like Jesus. Church, let’s talk about Jesus more. Tell me about the Gospel and I’ll tell you about it, too, and we’ll lift each other up and grow one another in God.
All praises to the One who made it all and finds it beautiful. Alleluia! Amen.