The More Excellent Way – Part 1

In the language Paul spoke, there were three words for love. Eros, used by the secular Greeks, is the lowest word for love. We get our word “erotic” from that word, and it means “sensual” or “sexual.”

Filos speaks of filial love, meaning the love of the family. The name of the city Philadelphia means “brotherly love.” It is a combination of the word filos and the word adelfos, “brother.”

Agape is the highest form of love. It is the kind of love God expressed in John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Agape seems to be spontaneous, unrequited love, which means it is not necessarily paid back. It is the kind of love that flows out without expecting return, in a sense.

The apostle John writing his epistle puts it well when he said, “We love Him because He first loved us” (I John 4:19). The apostle Paul picks this up in Romans 5:7-8: “For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

We come now in our study of I Corinthians to chapter 13, Paul’s discourse on love. About this chapter one writer says:

This chapter has been in all ages the object of the special admiration of the Church. Would it had been received in all ages the loftier and more valuable admiration which would have been expressed by the acceptance of its lessons!  It is a glorious hymn . . . in honor of Christian love, in which St. Paul rises on the wings of inspiration to the most sunlit heights of Christian eloquence.

Now let us consider I Corinthians 13:1-13 for my message THE MORE EXCELLENT WAY.

1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

6  Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

This holy hymn quiets our hearts and makes us feel like Moses at the burning bush, when the Lord told him, “Take off your shoes, because you are standing on holy ground” (see Exodus 3:5).

I have spent hours in meditation on this chapter. My desire is to share with you some of my thoughts. I ask one question: What does love do? To this question, I have three ANSWERS.

My first answer is:

1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Now contemplate that a moment. There are no top men, no top women, no bottom men, and no bottom women. Love equalizes. I think Paul uses the word tongues as languages. Look at verse 1: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.” Languages are a human uniqueness. Of all God’s creation, as far as we know, the human race is the only one that can communicate by language.

There are thousands of languages in the world. In fact, some countries have thousands of languages right within their borders. Language was first dispersed according to the Bible record in Genesis 11, when the human family decided to make a tower to look in on God, and God said He was going to disperse the language. So He did. That was at Babel in the plains of Shinar, after Noah’s flood.

Paul raises the possibility of being able to speak with the languages of men and angels. We know that men have languages. Do angels have languages? Real languages? We know that when angels visited people in Bible times, they apparently spoke the languages of the people where they went. For example, when Joshua met the captain of the Lord’s host outside Jericho, he spoke a language Joshua understood, so he must have spoken in the Hebrew language (Joshua 5:13-15).

When the angel came to Mary to tell her she would give birth to the Messiah, he spoke to her in her language, which no doubt was Hebrew (Luke 1). So the angels must speak the languages of people. Whether they have their own distinct language, like real people, we do not know. But the apostle says, “The mastery of languages was reduced to a gong or a cymbal, without love.” The gong and the cymbal are not tune-carrying instruments. Thus languages without love are brought down to nothing.

Now look at verse 2: “And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.” Having the understanding of all mysteries likely refers to philosophical mysteries, philosophical knowledge. We call such knowledge metaphysical, that is, beyond the physical. They are ideas men explore and exploit.

There is one thing we must remember when we think of all knowledge. The more you know, the more you realize you don’t know. When I was a young student, one of my teachers drew two circles on the board. He drew first a small circle and said, “If you don’t know much, you’re not touching much.” Then he drew a large circle on the board and said, “Now the more you know, the more you are touching the unknown.” What you know touches the perimeter of the unknown.

We have been told over the years that all knowledge grows. That is, we double our knowledge every ten years. I heard that many years ago. Research explores the unknown, we know that, and the progress that has been made in knowledge is amazing.

Then the apostle adds, “And if I had all faith so that I could remove mountains.” Certainly “all faith” means more than the grain of mustard seed Jesus spoke about. He said that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain be removed and be cast into the sea (Matthew 17:20). The apostle Paul says, “If I had all faith so that I could remove mountains.” Add all that up, and what do you come up with? What’s the sum? Zero. Nothing. “I am nothing,” he said.

Now look at verse 3. “Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor,” feed the hungry. We are well aware that there is great need around the world. People have been uprooted. Millions are refugees. Thousands have little to eat. Now I submit, my friend, the hungry are not hungry because of lack of food. We have sufficient food on planet Earth to feed everybody, sufficiently. That’s not the problem. The problem is poor distribution.

I remember when I first went to Nigeria in 1975, the country was exporting foodstuffs. The last time I was there they were importing. And it wasn’t necessarily because their population had increased that much. It was simply because their production did not keep up with their population. They told me that when the price of food went up, the farmers didn’t get the benefit, so they didn’t raise any more food than they had before.

Feed the hungry. Jesus told the young ruler to go, sell his things, and give the money to the poor. But without love, Paul says, that won’t accomplish much.

You can even choose to die. “Though I give my body to be burned,” he said. Choose martyrdom. It may be very noble to choose martyrdom, not deliberately, but perhaps forced to. Some years ago we received a letter from a young man in Ethiopia, fourteen years old. He said he was captured and put in jail by the Communist authorities. The guard told him if he’d recant his faith in Jesus, he’d let him out.

But this young man said, “No, I can’t do that.” So he stayed in jail. Now to seek martyrdom may be commendable, but altogether the results do nothing but fail you. Love equalizes all that society considers of high value feeding the hungry and suffering martyrdom.