For our meditation at this time, I want us to read from the First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 2.
And I, brethren, when I came unto you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, proclaiming to you the mystery of God.
For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.
And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.
And my speech and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:
that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.
Howbeit we speak wisdom among the full-grown: yet a wisdom not of this world, nor of the rulers of this world, who are coming to nought:
but we speak God’s wisdom in a mystery, even the wisdom that hath been hidden, which God foreordained before the worlds unto our glory:
which none of the rulers of this world knoweth: for had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory:
but as it is written,Things which eye saw not, and ear heard not,
And which entered not into the heart of man,
Whatsoever things God prepared for them that love Him.But unto us God revealed them through the Spirit: for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God.
For who among men knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of the man, which is in him? Even so the things of God none knoweth, save the Spirit of God.
But we received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is from God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us by God.
Which things also we speak, not in words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Spirit teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.
Now the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him; and he cannot know them, because they are spiritually judged.
But he that is spiritual judgeth all things, and he himself is judged of no man.
For who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he should instruct Him? But we have the mind of Christ.
And one fragment from the Second Letter, Chapter 3.
I want to condense the eighteenth verse of Chapter 3: we are transformed into the same image.
We are transformed. That is, we pass from one form to another.
As I have moved about amongst Christians in many parts of this world, and in many situations, one thing has been growing upon me more and more strongly.
In the presence of a great deal of confusion amongst Christians, and many complications in Christianity, the thing that has become stronger and stronger with me is the need that a Christian should really know what Christianity is—really what it is that they are in as Christians.
That sounds perhaps rather drastic, but I am quite sure that a very great deal of the trouble—and I think we all agree there is a good deal of trouble in Christianity generally—a very great deal of the trouble is due to a failure to really understand what Christianity is.
And it may seem strange that I should come to speak to you, mostly experienced and more or less mature Christians, about the true nature of Christianity. But if you feel that that is presumptuous, and hardly called for, be patient. I think before we get very far, you will feel as I do.
Although we know a good deal about Christianity as it is taught in the New Testament, we too are very often in difficulty ourselves for the simple reason—or the profound reason—that we have not really grasped the meaning of what we are in.
May I say this to you? A moment’s thought will make you agree that this major part of the New Testament, particularly after the Book of Acts—I mean all these letters which make up this larger section of the New Testament—is all bearing upon this one thing: to make Christians understand what Christianity is.
And if that created the New Testament, and it was all to Christians, surely we have to conclude that even New Testament Christians needed Christianity explaining to them. Even then there was this necessity of defining the real nature of that into which they had come.
Take the Letter to the Romans. Was that necessary for Christians? It was written to Christians. And what was it written for? To put them right in the matter of Christianity.
Apparently, those people were not quite clear in their position, in their lives, in their hearts, as to the implications of that into which they had come by faith in Jesus Christ.
Proceed, as we are going to do, into the letters to the Corinthians. What are they? They are set over against a background of real confusion and contradiction, as we know, in Corinth. Those letters were written really to try and make those Christians understand what Christianity really is.
And so on and on through the New Testament. That is the object of it all: that we, with all who believe in the Lord Jesus, should really have a clear understanding of what this is—the meaning of the name we bear, the meaning of that which we believe, into which I think we have come by the grace of God.
We can gather it all up in this simple statement: the whole Christian life is an education as to what Christianity is. Is that true?
Do you not sometimes stand in the presence of some situation, some difficulty, some trial, some complication, some experience, and say, “What does it all mean? What does it all mean?”
“I am a Christian. I have put my faith in the Lord Jesus. I trust Him. I am His. I do not understand what it all means—my experience, why I am going this way, why this has come my way, why my life is such as it is. These many things are so full of mystery and perplexity. What is it I have got into?”
“Is this Christianity? Is this really what I have to expect and accept? If so, I need understanding. I really do need enlightenment. I need help as a Christian. The Father’s ways are often beyond me altogether.”
All right, that is the setting. Is that true? Well, if there is anyone here this evening who has never been that way, and never had a moment like that—the path has been so nice and smooth, and everything so right and perfect and well-adjusted, without any kind of trouble—I think I will excuse you, if you like, to get up and go home. I have nothing to say to you.
So I must assume that if you do not go out, you agree. And I think that is true.
Well now, what is it? What is the point? The point at which these words in 2 Corinthians 3:18 are focused: we are transformed.
We Christians—and it is the present active tense—we are being transformed. We are in a process: transformation, passing from one form to another.
There is a sense in which that fragment, that condensed verse put into those few words, touches the heart of the whole New Testament and explains everything.
Having said that, we come back to the chapter which we read, the second chapter of the First Letter. This letter—indeed, both of these letters, and I go further, all the letters, but this is a very good example—is built around two contrasted words.
Those two contrasted words, there in this second chapter of the First Letter, describe two different types of humanity: two different manhoods.
Between the two, firmly and squarely, the cross of Jesus Christ is planted.
Look at the chapter. Read it again in the light of that last statement:
For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.
Everything afterward rests upon that distinction: the distinction between these two types, which the cross divides and says, “That belongs to one category of human beings, and this belongs to another category of human beings.”
There is a cleavage cut by the cross of Jesus Christ between those two which separates them and makes them two different species of mankind.
That truth follows right through this letter. You must read the rest of the letter, and the Second Letter, and as much more of the New Testament as you like. But read through this First Letter with what I have just stated in your mind.
The apostle speaks about a foundation and the building:
For other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.
And, “Let every man take heed how he buildeth thereon.”
Then he drives the wedge of the cross right in—right into the superstructure. He speaks of one kind of work and another kind of work, and says that every man’s work shall be tried by fire.
One kind of work, or works, is the product of one kind—one type—of man, a Christian. Another kind of work, or works, is the product of another kind.
The first is going up in flames and smoke, and will never be found in eternity. It is gone. The second will abide. That is the apostle’s word: will abide. It will abide the fire, the test. It will abide time. It will abide everything in the ultimate structure and building of God.
He is applying this principle: the divide between two kinds of people—Christian people—and two kinds of work, or fruit, from each respectively.
The building, he says, as to its eternal value, will be determined by who is producing it. What kind of manhood is producing it? Which of the two is producing this building—building on Christ, building on Christ?
Think about that. These are not non-Christians. What an immense amount is being built upon Christ that is going up in smoke.
I say it is going to be determined, for every man’s work shall be tried by fire. Its real value, its endurance, will depend upon where it comes from—that is, on which of these two types of manhood.
Now you are wondering what the two words are which define these two types. Read the chapter, Chapter 2 of the First Letter: “Now the natural man”; “he that is spiritual.”
There are your two words: the natural and the spiritual Christians. Not unconverted people; not non-Christians.
Is it necessary for me to put in all the detail to confirm and ratify what I am saying? May I remind you that the Apostle Paul had been in Corinth for two whole years?
I do not know what you think, but if you had the Apostle Paul with you for two whole years, going in and out, concentrating upon you, what you would have had! There he was for two whole years amongst them, going in and out, teaching probably every day, sometimes.
Then he went away. He was away for five years, and then he sent to Corinth. He had heard some things reported by those of the household of Chloe.
He got a report. I wish everybody would do what the apostle did: not take the report without investigating. He got the report, but he immediately dispatched a reliable messenger to investigate, to find either that the thing was not true or to find that it was.
The messenger went and came back and said, “It is all true, and worse.” Worse than the report. Five years—the deterioration.
You perhaps are startled by that, shocked. You say, “Can it be?” Well, remember the messages to the seven churches in Asia.
Remember how those churches began, all of them. Wonderful things in those churches at the beginning. Read the story of the beginning of the church in Ephesus. My, what a movement!
Against such tremendous antagonism and hostility, they came out clear and brought all their magic books. The price given for them represented some tremendous amount in human values. They brought them out into the street, perhaps the marketplace or some open space, and set them all aflame—the whole lot.
That is thoroughgoing devotion. Where are you with that church in Revelation?
Thou hast left thy first love. Repent, repent.
Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen.
What can happen? What can happen? Well, I put that in by way of emphasizing this possibility, at least, of declension.
Why in Corinth? Why in Ephesus? Why in all the others that declined? You come back to your two men—two men inside of one man, the two men inside of each individual.
It is not a dividing of a company into this category and that category, but the two things in a person. You know, we are all, if we are the Lord’s, in some measure at least, natural and spiritual.
You agree with that? Well, it does not need arguing, does it? You know; I know.
The question is not whether we are altogether perfect and there is no more of the natural in us. That is not the point. The point is: who is dominating? Who is governing? Which of the two?
Here at Corinth, as we see by the letter, it is the natural man that was in control. The natural man in the men and the women—the natural had taken ascendancy over the spiritual.
The two words then are natural and spiritual. The Greek word translated “natural” is psychikos: the man of soul. The spiritual is the man of spirit. The question always incumbent is: who is going to have the upper hand, the mastery, in every one of us—in each person?
Now, what is this natural category, this natural species? Look at the letter again. First of all, the dominance, ascendancy, control of intellectualism.
We read the chapter. Read again: “the wisdom of this world.” The wisdom of this world—that is the thing being marked and underscored as part of the trouble. It is the control of intellectualism.
The natural reason. The natural mind. The idea that you are going to solve the problems of life along intellectual lines.
Will you tell me that that is not a peril of Christianity today? It is everywhere. It is everywhere. You see it from the religious press.
You may not read so much of it; it is my business to be familiar with what is happening in the Christian theological world. I tell you, friends, that I receive certain magazines, theological magazines, and I find them wearisome to the spirit.
All this terrific effort to solve the problems of Christianity by the human intellect—research and argument and discussion and debate and theses and whatnot. Philosophical Christianity trying to solve spiritual problems. What a weariness it is.
I put down these papers sometimes. I cannot finish the thing; it is so dead—oh, utterly lifeless. And that sort of thing is everywhere, everywhere.
It is thought that if you go to our seats of learning, with a clever brain able to put out a convincing argument, you are going to save souls. There was never a greater fallacy.
This Letter to the Corinthians says that. Read the second chapter again. It is saying that Paul was a scholar. Paul was an educated man—so much so that for two thousand years the best scholars have found him beating them at every point. They have not mastered him yet.
Go to your religious bookshops. Look at the shelves on the exposition of the New Testament, and you will find that Paul predominates.
I have a book by one of our leading professors of theology in the university, and it was called A Portrait of Peter. This man, with all his learning, set out to give us a portrait of Peter. But I opened the book and found that the first few pages were wholly occupied with Paul.
He could not get to Peter because Paul was in the way. And the issue of his attempt was, “Well, Peter is a great man. My, Paul was very much greater.”
Yes, this man Paul was an educated man, an intellectual man, a learned man. You cannot discredit Paul along that line, not at all. He will defeat you every time in that realm.
But listen: “Ye Corinthians, when I came to you, I came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom. I was with you in fear and trembling. I had determined, made up my mind, come to this settled position, that I would know nothing among you intellectual Corinthians, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.”
What was Paul’s conclusion? No use, however much I have at my disposal, whatever I may know, however I might be able to argue with the Corinthians or Athenians on Mars Hill, I will get nowhere along that line with a spiritual situation like this. I made up my mind.
It is part of the natural man to think that you are going to be able to build up something by intellectual, scholastic, academic acumen.
The fact is, what intellect can build, intellect can pull down. What the Spirit of God builds, nothing can pull down.
Then look again at this prominent word: power. It is in the chapter—power, power. At Corinth, there was a worshipping of natural power: ability to conquer by natural strength.
You can call it powerism, for it was an ism there. Crush by superior strength. Impose something forceful, mighty, upon people. If you are only strong enough, you can solve all the problems and change all the situations.
Powerism: the natural man’s idea of how it is going to be done.
Over against the powerism of this mentality of the natural man, the apostle almost glories in using the word weakness. He says that even Christ was crucified through weakness. He is always thinking about his own weakness, glorying in it.
What does he mean? He means this: the denial that this kind of human grit, hold, false tenacity, assertiveness, can achieve anything in the spiritual world.
What a building we are tearing down, are we not? Let me just put it this way. What the apostle means—and he says it, he puts it actually into words—what he means is the ability to let go, the ability to let go.
To relinquish your natural tenacity and let go.
Do you know that has been the test of man right from the beginning? Was it the test of Abraham? Let go what even God had given in Isaac. The test of this man’s real spirituality was his ability to let go.
Was it true of Jacob? Was he a man of tenacity, determination—a man who would get what he wanted at any price, at the cost of anybody else’s convenience? He was going to get it.
Is that not the issue at Peniel, Jabbok? “I will not let Thee go.” That is Jacob. He had been like that all his life, holding on tenaciously to what he wanted, what he got, or what he intended to have.
The finger of God touched the hollow of his thigh that night. Oh, you can see he is a changed man, how he meets his brother Esau after that.
Whether it is Abraham or Jacob, or any of the others that we might mention, you are not going to get through with God fully and finally by your own natural determination and tenacity.
One of the great lessons of the Christian life—is that not true, friends?—is how to let go to God.
Oh, with all the exhortations to be strong in the Lord, to endure, to quit you like men, be strong, it does not mean this natural strength. It is another kind of strength, a very different kind of strength.
It is a strength which is only seen by our ability to let other people sometimes have their way, get what they are after, set us at nought, hold and grip and maintain things in their hands to our disadvantage.
Our real strength is in our weakness. I said the apostle has put this into words. Read the second chapter of the Letter to the Philippians:
Though He was equal with God, He emptied Himself,
taking the form of a bondservant,
becoming obedient.
Well, has it proved to be the right thing?
We are being transformed. See the point now?
Well, we have not finished yet. Over against intellectualism: foolishness. Over against powerism: weakness. Over against emotionalism: what?
The denial that the quest and craving and pursuit of sensationalism will get you there.
I believe that was at the heart of their lust for—now use that word—their excessive desire, their outreach of soul, for spiritual gifts.
It is always impressive that it is to the Corinthians, far more than to any other church in the New Testament, that so much is said about spiritual gifts: these demonstrations, this display, these things that you could see and glory in because you could see.
I am quite sure, from what we read, if you had gone into some of those gatherings in Corinth, you would have seen some terrible things, shocking things—the behaviour of hysteria—as they made these spiritual gifts, as they thought, the ground and nature of their spirituality.
And they were the most unspiritual church of all.
Balance. Balance over against unbalanced lopsidedness in the Christian life.
You know, there is one characteristic of these Christians, one defect, which is written so clearly and so largely here in the letter: the lack of the power of spiritual discernment, spiritual perception.
The absence of spiritual discernment and perception and spiritual intuition—which warns, which says inwardly to you in the presence of things, “Go steady. Go steady. Do not be carried away. Do not be thrown off your balance.”
“This thing may be all right in its right place, under proper control. Be careful. There is a snare in every spiritual gift.”
If you make the gift the main thing, and not the spiritual meaning of it, that thing, which in itself may be quite right, will lead you into trouble—get you into trouble.
I am recounting a lot of history, you know, when I say that. Perhaps some of the biggest problems that some of us have had to deal with in people have been the result of this unbalanced quest for the manifestation and sensational aspects of Christianity.
Our asylums are full of people who did that.
Well, perhaps some of you are not able to understand all this, but this is the situation here. I am only saying it to show that there are these two orders, two categories—what I have called species of humanity—which have their residence within one shell, the human body: soul and spirit. There they are.
The apostle writes to these same people, because the Second Letter is only a continuation of the First in principle, on the principle: “We are being changed from one form to another.”
What is going on? What is the process of the Spirit of God in the believer? What is the meaning of all this that the Lord allows to come our way—this discipline, this chastening, these trials, these adversities, these difficulties, these strange things?
To use Peter’s word, “Think it not strange concerning the fiery trial among you.” Things that seem strange to us as coming from God or being allowed by God—what is the meaning?
It is to bring about the change, the transformation from one species to another, one kind of humanity to another. You have got that?
There is something in this trial, in this adversity, in this suffering under the sovereignty of God—there is something in it.