1 Corinthians: Reflection on Chapter 1

“Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 21For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. 22For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, 23but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, 24but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

26For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. 27But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; 28God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, 29so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. 30And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, 31so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”"

1 Corinthians 1:20-30

I am weak, but Christ is strong. Can I confess this? My salvation does not come from my own strength and understanding. It is a hard thing, to need help. This is the place where something in me dies. This is where I am freed, and begin to live. In open confession of brokenness, in return to the open arms of God, something new is sparked within me, and I begin to mature in Christ. In the words of Paul, I am “being saved”. I am one of the saints, the “set apart”. What does that mean? Right now, I can tell you that it means pain. It hurts to die to oneself. It hurts to constantly have to relearn what true wisdom, strength, and power are. But I also rejoice. As God has worked in me, I have come to see the wisdom of his foolishness, the greatness of that different way in which he works. I have experienced it in my life. Though stubborn, I welcome the outpouring of his grace, even though it brings discomfort, even though it brings the unexpected.
However, that doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t look like foolishness sometimes. I take joy that Christ would use a broken person like me, but often lose heart at the brokenness of the church, of the many mistakes the “saints” have made throughout history.  God is saving the world through a man who died, a “rebellious people”, and an old book? Often, I feel inclined to trust instead in what I understand, what I can touch: modern sensibilities, American pragmatism, the wisdom of the universities, the march of technology, the comfort of middle-class suburban life.

Babylon Besieged

(note: I actually didn’t mean to post this on the anniversary of 9/11. I didn’t write the poem with 9/11 specifically in mind and I did a double-take when I noticed this morning that I had posted it by accident on the hallowed date. Nevertheless, in a more general way I did write the poem in dialogue with a world that is filled with violence, that has been made weary and frayed by too many wars and bombings and genocides and lynchings and disappearings. It is in this world that I hold out my hands to Christ and ask him to give me a new song to play.)

Babylon Besieged

Children starve and nobles dance
But the poor weep
While we cannot
And I
I am a rich young ruler
Who has never known what it means to be alive
Though perhaps now
I am beginning to learn.

In such a world
I could have sung a brazen song, pretending
Life like a prop against the gate
Of Babylon besieged
But why
Should I disguise the sting of your poison?
My bloody heart.

I remember a day when
Golden sunlight anointed the dust
And I saw our future written in the clouds
The bombs fell so slowly
That the children played in the patterns
Of their shadows on the rooftops.
We have lived with death
And forgotten its meaning.
We have lived without life
And forgotten our purpose.

Today was born in smoke
I can’t see the city- I can’t see the street
Nevertheless, life has always been beyond my reach
And that is why I’m kneeling on the gravel
Here and now Friend
Reaching out my hands to you.
Will you fill them overflowing
With foolishness?
With a life I’ve never had?
I dream of a life
My city cannot understand
But I’ve heard your call
And I pray to you
Give me a heart.

My faith is kneeling in the bloody city
Beyond the irreversible stutters
And statics of the bullets
Of shells bursting in air
Beyond the dollars and dusts that numb the scars
Of souls malnourished
And overcoming all lonely tears and propaganda fliers
And overflowing dumps and empty hearts
Love cries a new song
Triumphant in death but never dying.

My Irreplaceable Friend,
In you I play a new song
Because you are the breath
That moves in me to love.
Here in Babylon the besieged
You are my breath
You are my love
You pick me up off the pavement
You set me on my feet again.
And for that
You have my love
And my devotion forever.

A Poem for Friday

I think I’ll start a tradition of posting a poem every Friday.

Here is a deserving first- I think it’s beautiful.

Friend, in the Desolate Time

Friend, in the desolate time, when your soul
is enshrouded in darkness
When, in a deep abyss, memory and feeling
die out,
Intellect timidly gropes among shadowy forms
and illusions
Heart can no longer sigh, eye is unable
to weep;
When, from your night-clouded soul the wings
of fire have fallen
And you, to nothing, afraid, feel
yourself sinking once more,
Say, who rescues you then?-Who is the
comforting angel
Brings to your innermost soul order and
beauty again,