The message of the cross is foolishness
to those who are perishing,
but to us who are being saved
it is the power of God...
For the foolishness of God
is wiser than man's wisdom,
and the weakness of God
is stronger
than man's stregnth...
But God chose the foolish things
of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things
of the world to shame the strong.
I Cor. 1:18,25,28
I posted this verse yesterday, but woke up this morning thinking more about why I had felt the need to post it. Something I am aware of whenever I am in academic circles - and Christian academic circles are not immune - is that there is often a continual sense that one needs to show off one's intelligence. A sort of intellectual one-upmanship begins to creep into conversations, as name-dropping and thesis topics get off-handedly mentioned. My natural inclination is to jump into these games, and parade around the half-formed bits of knowledge that populate my brain. I am trying to learn to be silent. And to find my worth in the foolishness of Christ's cross.
These verses remind me that the wisdom I may think I have, the degrees that I think mean something, are rubbish in light of the "wisdom of heaven which is first of all pure." Reading these words, I think of Annie Dillard's passage in Holy the Firm, where she talks about the highest level of seraphim that circle the throne of God. They burn up in a torrent of praise, full not of the knowledge of God, but full of His love. It is possible to "love completely without complete understanding."
And Dillard says: "So love is greater than knowledge. How could I have forgotten?"
to those who are perishing,
but to us who are being saved
it is the power of God...
For the foolishness of God
is wiser than man's wisdom,
and the weakness of God
is stronger
than man's stregnth...
But God chose the foolish things
of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things
of the world to shame the strong.
I Cor. 1:18,25,28
I posted this verse yesterday, but woke up this morning thinking more about why I had felt the need to post it. Something I am aware of whenever I am in academic circles - and Christian academic circles are not immune - is that there is often a continual sense that one needs to show off one's intelligence. A sort of intellectual one-upmanship begins to creep into conversations, as name-dropping and thesis topics get off-handedly mentioned. My natural inclination is to jump into these games, and parade around the half-formed bits of knowledge that populate my brain. I am trying to learn to be silent. And to find my worth in the foolishness of Christ's cross.
These verses remind me that the wisdom I may think I have, the degrees that I think mean something, are rubbish in light of the "wisdom of heaven which is first of all pure." Reading these words, I think of Annie Dillard's passage in Holy the Firm, where she talks about the highest level of seraphim that circle the throne of God. They burn up in a torrent of praise, full not of the knowledge of God, but full of His love. It is possible to "love completely without complete understanding."
And Dillard says: "So love is greater than knowledge. How could I have forgotten?"
2 comments:
Often these verses give me strength, but sometimes they make me feel all the worse: for I often consider myself strong and wise. What hubris! Ah well. It never takes long before my weaknesses are ovrewhelmingly abundant.
While I was in North Africa, the man I was working with said, "If all of these people I work with--who are poor, uneducated, unknowledgeable--can change the world for Christ, how much more should the educated, wise, knowledgeable people in the West be radically changing their countries. This man, who is highly educated himself, has spent his whole life in a fairly uneducated culture, and I don't think the truth of this verse has hit him. He thinks that those he works with are "the least of these." In some ways they are. But in more ways they are the most blessed people I have ever met.
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