I think it was my daughter Maddie who said it best, said it for all of us as yesterday afternoon she declared “This has been a terrible October.” Less that two weeks ago we had to put down our beloved Cocker Spaniel Cissy who had been a part of our lives for around 15 years. And then just yesterday it was our cat Wesley, who came into our family almost the same time.
His full name was Wesley Wilberforce Weber. We tried for a brief time referring to him as WWW.cat. But that seemed just too cute to stick. And even the more formal name was unwieldy, so he was just Wesley. The explanation was that he always had something say, a sermon to preach. He was a cat, just a cat for some, I understand that. For others he was a cat with personality, who shouldered his way into our family and took his place with confidence and grace. He was a cat with opinions, and wasn’t hesitant about sharing them. Whether we ever got what he was trying to tell us was obviously our problem and not his.
What he wasn’t was one of those aloof creatures who hid from human contact, only appearing to eat and to be let out. No, Wesley was a people person, I mean cat. He wanted to meet and greet, to sit on laps and watch football or even engage in conversation. And he loved the dog. Not in a mushy, huggy, touchy feely kind of way. But in a cat way, in the knowing that there are just certain ways that things should be, and checking on her on a regular basis, and just looking out for her since everyone knows cats are much more intelligent than dogs - at least in the opinion of most cats.
It was after Cissy was gone that we noticed Wesley’s problems. He quit eating, moved more slowly, just seemed to struggle with most things. At the end, the vet said that it wasn’t grief that killed him, but I have to believe it was a part of it all. Their lives were intertwined from the day we brought them into the house, so it only makes sense that they would leave this world together too.
You just never know, I guess, which lives will get wrapped up together. You never know the impact you might have on someone else. Whether it is the someone else you would expect, spouse or children or parents, or someone you might be surprised to know finds a connection. This fourth and last principle of our study is “Leave Boldly.” Meaning in part that while we live we should ask what we are doing that will last beyond us. We should pay attention to the lives that we might impact for good, or for God. How can we live in such a way that those around us are better, are different, are impacted because we were there.
That is the question that Paul was asking in these verses from the first letter to the Corinthians He was asking it of us, but he was also asking it of himself, I think. Take a look:
1 Corinthians 3:12-14 Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw-- 13 the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done. 14 If what has been built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward.
These verses follow the more familiar “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” verse that described his ministry as a partnership. Or at least a recognition that he only has a part in the building of the kingdom. The third chapter opens with that agricultural image of ministry. Paul is staking his claim for taking part in the planting of the faith, but also acknowledging that others (like Apollos, whoever that is) have played a part as well. That in fact it is this partnership that Christ has in mind when it comes to building the church.
Which is the image that he shifts to in verse 10. Well, verse nine is a transition verse: “For we are God's servants, working together; you are God's field, God's building.” So, out of the field into the building - or off the farm into the construction business. We are building, says Paul. But are we building to last, that’s the question before us in the middle verses.
The foundation, he says is Jesus Christ. That was verse eleven. That’s a given. Even the foundation he says he laid in verse ten, is really the foundation that is Jesus Christ. He didn’t invent it, he didn’t define it, it just was. So, now we all have an opportunity, he argues, just like he did, to build on that foundation. We can’t change it, we can’t determine the boundaries, can’t redefine the dimensions. But we can enhance it. We can make space for others. We can add color or comfort. We can, well, who knows what we can do. It is simply amazing that Christ chooses to let us participate in this building process. But he does. He wants us as partners, as co-creators in building the Kingdom, in shaping the church.
But Paul asks are we building something for ourselves, or something that will last beyond us? Are we building for our own preferences and tastes, or are we reaching beyond us to build something bigger, something more inclusive?
He reminds us that there is a variety of building materials available. He describes them as gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay and straw. Because we are used to Paul’s lists, we might be inclined to think that some of us have gold and some of us have straw. Which is the way the world talks to us. Some of us can do great and lasting things, others don’t have the capability. But in this case any of these options are available to all of us. It is a matter of choice and not personal ability or giftedness. Do we choose the things that will last or are we only concerned with quick and easy. Are we into shortcuts - working with metals and stones is much more difficult than with wood or straw. So, it is an invitation to choose that more difficult route. More difficult but more lasting.
More difficult. We all know that opening yourself up to others has risks. We can get hurt. Our hearts can break when we risk loving. Sometimes it seems more prudent, or certainly safer to just worry about yourself. To look our for number one, as the world tells us. Yet Paul tells us there is a reward in doing this well.
Verse fourteen is an interesting one. “If what is built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward.” Our first thought, of course is eternity. If we do this right, then we get eternity in heaven, a place in the kingdom. But then that can’t be right. Because that sounds like salvation is by our own efforts, by our own works. And Paul would never say that. If we were to read on verse fifteen tells us that the reward isn’t salvation: 1 Corinthians 3:15 If the work is burned up, the builder will suffer loss; the builder will be saved, but only as through fire. Salvation isn’t contingent on us building rightly. So, what could the reward possibly be? Some talk about levels of heaven, or the size of the mansion we inhabit. But that has never sounded right to me. Heaven must be a place of equality, of unity, not of hierarchy.
It may be too subtle for some, but I believe that the reward Paul speaks of is the satisfaction of working for something bigger than yourself. It is the joy of loving despite the risks. It is the mutuality we experience when our lives intertwine with others, even those we may never meet, who may come after us. It is the second wind we receive in running this race because of the cloud of witnesses of those who have gone before and glimpsing the vision for those who will come after.
We may think we are a small pebble tossed into a big sea. But those ripples may circle out and touch lives in surprising ways. Just a pebble. Or just a cat. And yet we are different because he was here. May it be said of you as well.
Shalom,
Derek
His full name was Wesley Wilberforce Weber. We tried for a brief time referring to him as WWW.cat. But that seemed just too cute to stick. And even the more formal name was unwieldy, so he was just Wesley. The explanation was that he always had something say, a sermon to preach. He was a cat, just a cat for some, I understand that. For others he was a cat with personality, who shouldered his way into our family and took his place with confidence and grace. He was a cat with opinions, and wasn’t hesitant about sharing them. Whether we ever got what he was trying to tell us was obviously our problem and not his.
What he wasn’t was one of those aloof creatures who hid from human contact, only appearing to eat and to be let out. No, Wesley was a people person, I mean cat. He wanted to meet and greet, to sit on laps and watch football or even engage in conversation. And he loved the dog. Not in a mushy, huggy, touchy feely kind of way. But in a cat way, in the knowing that there are just certain ways that things should be, and checking on her on a regular basis, and just looking out for her since everyone knows cats are much more intelligent than dogs - at least in the opinion of most cats.
It was after Cissy was gone that we noticed Wesley’s problems. He quit eating, moved more slowly, just seemed to struggle with most things. At the end, the vet said that it wasn’t grief that killed him, but I have to believe it was a part of it all. Their lives were intertwined from the day we brought them into the house, so it only makes sense that they would leave this world together too.
You just never know, I guess, which lives will get wrapped up together. You never know the impact you might have on someone else. Whether it is the someone else you would expect, spouse or children or parents, or someone you might be surprised to know finds a connection. This fourth and last principle of our study is “Leave Boldly.” Meaning in part that while we live we should ask what we are doing that will last beyond us. We should pay attention to the lives that we might impact for good, or for God. How can we live in such a way that those around us are better, are different, are impacted because we were there.
That is the question that Paul was asking in these verses from the first letter to the Corinthians He was asking it of us, but he was also asking it of himself, I think. Take a look:
1 Corinthians 3:12-14 Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw-- 13 the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done. 14 If what has been built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward.
These verses follow the more familiar “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” verse that described his ministry as a partnership. Or at least a recognition that he only has a part in the building of the kingdom. The third chapter opens with that agricultural image of ministry. Paul is staking his claim for taking part in the planting of the faith, but also acknowledging that others (like Apollos, whoever that is) have played a part as well. That in fact it is this partnership that Christ has in mind when it comes to building the church.
Which is the image that he shifts to in verse 10. Well, verse nine is a transition verse: “For we are God's servants, working together; you are God's field, God's building.” So, out of the field into the building - or off the farm into the construction business. We are building, says Paul. But are we building to last, that’s the question before us in the middle verses.
The foundation, he says is Jesus Christ. That was verse eleven. That’s a given. Even the foundation he says he laid in verse ten, is really the foundation that is Jesus Christ. He didn’t invent it, he didn’t define it, it just was. So, now we all have an opportunity, he argues, just like he did, to build on that foundation. We can’t change it, we can’t determine the boundaries, can’t redefine the dimensions. But we can enhance it. We can make space for others. We can add color or comfort. We can, well, who knows what we can do. It is simply amazing that Christ chooses to let us participate in this building process. But he does. He wants us as partners, as co-creators in building the Kingdom, in shaping the church.
But Paul asks are we building something for ourselves, or something that will last beyond us? Are we building for our own preferences and tastes, or are we reaching beyond us to build something bigger, something more inclusive?
He reminds us that there is a variety of building materials available. He describes them as gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay and straw. Because we are used to Paul’s lists, we might be inclined to think that some of us have gold and some of us have straw. Which is the way the world talks to us. Some of us can do great and lasting things, others don’t have the capability. But in this case any of these options are available to all of us. It is a matter of choice and not personal ability or giftedness. Do we choose the things that will last or are we only concerned with quick and easy. Are we into shortcuts - working with metals and stones is much more difficult than with wood or straw. So, it is an invitation to choose that more difficult route. More difficult but more lasting.
More difficult. We all know that opening yourself up to others has risks. We can get hurt. Our hearts can break when we risk loving. Sometimes it seems more prudent, or certainly safer to just worry about yourself. To look our for number one, as the world tells us. Yet Paul tells us there is a reward in doing this well.
Verse fourteen is an interesting one. “If what is built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward.” Our first thought, of course is eternity. If we do this right, then we get eternity in heaven, a place in the kingdom. But then that can’t be right. Because that sounds like salvation is by our own efforts, by our own works. And Paul would never say that. If we were to read on verse fifteen tells us that the reward isn’t salvation: 1 Corinthians 3:15 If the work is burned up, the builder will suffer loss; the builder will be saved, but only as through fire. Salvation isn’t contingent on us building rightly. So, what could the reward possibly be? Some talk about levels of heaven, or the size of the mansion we inhabit. But that has never sounded right to me. Heaven must be a place of equality, of unity, not of hierarchy.
It may be too subtle for some, but I believe that the reward Paul speaks of is the satisfaction of working for something bigger than yourself. It is the joy of loving despite the risks. It is the mutuality we experience when our lives intertwine with others, even those we may never meet, who may come after us. It is the second wind we receive in running this race because of the cloud of witnesses of those who have gone before and glimpsing the vision for those who will come after.
We may think we are a small pebble tossed into a big sea. But those ripples may circle out and touch lives in surprising ways. Just a pebble. Or just a cat. And yet we are different because he was here. May it be said of you as well.
Shalom,
Derek
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