Date: Epiphany 4a, 1999
Text: 1 Corinthians 1:26-31
Theme: God, You've Got It All Wrong!

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

An angel suddenly appeared at a university faculty meeting and told the academic dean that, because of his unselfish and exemplary behavior, the Lord wanted to reward him with his choice of either infinite wealth, infinite wisdom or unsurpassed beauty. Without hesitation, the dean selected wisdom.

"Done!" the angel said, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke and a bolt of lightning. All heads turned toward the dean in eager expectation; he sat surrounded by a faint halo of light. At length, one of his colleagues whispered, "Say something."

The dean solemnly looked at them and said, "I should have taken the money."

Perhaps infinite wisdom isn't all it's cracked up to be or, perhaps, infinite wisdom recognizes a mistake when it's made. Theodore Levitt of the Harvard Business School states that "experience comes from what we have done. Wisdom comes from what we have done badly." From all appearances, Theodore Levitt is right when we look at today's epistle lesson. In this lesson St. Paul, by inspiration of God the Holy Spirit, speaks of wisdom; he speaks of God's wisdom; and God's wisdom would surely seem to come from all the mistakes he made.

Now, you know, or at least I hope you know, that I do not believe that God can, or will, make mistakes. But, if I were God, I would not have built my church the way he did in Corinth. Look at what Paul tells us about the way God built his church. "Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. 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. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him."

Is that the way you would build a church? It's not the way I would build a church. Paul tells us that God made his primary appeal to the weak, to the lowly, to the poor. Every pastor I know prays--prays--for a benefactor: one rich member, a sugar daddy, who can bankroll the congregation.

It's no secret that if the movers and shakers in a community attend a certain church then other people, looking to move in their circles, will also attend that church; they will volunteer to serve on the same church committees that the movers and shakers serve on.

When I was in college I took a course on career development. One of the books in that course stated that you should find the church or synagogue that your boss attends and then join. Attend the classes they attend; if they sing in the choir then sing in the choir.

Experience tells us that this is the way to build a church. Get the important people to come to your church. Get the influential people to come to you church. Get the rich people to come to your church and all your problems will be solved.

But that is not the way God built his church. No. Whom does God call into a relationship with himself? The influential people? The movers and shakers? No. Paul tells us that God called the poor, the lowly, the people society considered ignorant and of no account, in order to build his church. And my response is: "God, you've got it all wrong!"

In her book Let Me Be a Woman, Elizabeth Elliot tells the story of Gladys Aylward and how she was unable to accept the looks God had given her. When she was a child, Gladys had two great sorrows. One, while all her friends had beautiful golden hair, hers was black. The other, while her friends were still growing, she had stopped. She was about four feet ten inches tall. These were the two great regrets of her life and she was sure that God had played a horrible joke upon her. But when at last she reached the country to which God had called her as a missionary, she stood on the wharf in Shanghai and looked at the people to whom He had called her. "Every single one of them" she said, "had black hair. And every one of them had stopped growing when I did." At that moment she was able to look to God and exclaim, "Lord God, You know what You are doing!"

And St. Paul agrees with her. God knew, and he knows, what he is doing in building his church. And God does it his way for a reason. God does it his way because of the problem that affected the Christians in Corinth. The Corinthians Christians puffed up in pride; they looked down upon the pagans who surrounded them; they even looked down upon each other. And they went around bragging, bragging, that God had especially revealed his wisdom to them. But this wisdom in which they gloried downplayed the cross; it downplayed the importance of Christ's substitutionary death in our place; it downplayed the importance of Christ's physical, bodily resurrection from the dead. They downplayed these things because they clashed with the prevailing philosophies of the day. And the Corinthian Christians wanted to fit into their world; they wanted to be intellectually accepted so they gave a little--just a little--but, even at that, a little was too much.

In their mind, God had it wrong. God had made a mistake. And, from every earthly point of view God indeed made, and still makes, mistakes. The way God operates in our world, God's standards, are a radical reversal of almost everything we've ever been taught. If you don't believe me, just look at today's Gospel lesson, the Beatitudes, and contrast them with what we have been taught about life.

"Blessed are those who know they are spiritually poor." We have always been taught to define blessedness in terms of wealth.

"Blessed are those who mourn." We have been taught that blessedness means never experiencing anything that causes us pain or grief in life.

"Blessed are those who are humble." We have been taught that being number one is defined in terms of "going for it" and the competitive spirit.

"Blessed are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires." We have been taught that our happiness lies in the desire to do our own thing or to conform to the values of the people around us.

"Blessed are those who are merciful." We have been taught that the quality of mercy is a sign of weakness.

"Blessed are the pure in heart." Tell that one to the guys and gals at work or school!

"Blessed are those who are persecuted because they do what God requires." We call those people fools or fanatics!

"Blessed are you when people insult you.. and tell all kinds of evil lies about you because you are my followers." We tend to say, "I don't get mad, I get even!"

I say it again: God's standards, the way he operates, reverses almost everything we have been taught about in this life. But if one of us has to be wrong--either us or God--you can be sure that it isn't God.

God doesn't make mistakes. But he does turn the standards of this world upon its ears. And I'm glad that he does. Think about it for a moment; think about God choosing you to be his own son or daughter. When I think of it, I can't help but believe that God made a giant mistake in choosing me. I was, and still am, a sinner. And I'm not talking about nickel and dime sins, although God doesn't view sin that way. God views all sin as equally damnable. And I was under his judgement; I was under his condemnation; but God didn't leave me there. God the Holy Spirit, working through the gospel, came to me and, yes, he convicted me of my sin, but, more importantly he showed me Jesus and the cross and the empty tomb. He showed me that because Jesus died on the cross in my place I am now forgiven--my sins no longer exist in God's sight--they are thrown away, as far as the east is from the west, or so the Bible tells me.

And I am still a sinner and I know the sinful capabilities that still reside in me. And, from every earthly point of view, God indeed made a mistake. But he didn't. I stand before him stripped of all pretension; stripped of all outward piety; stripped of the righteous masks I hold up before the world. And God still calls me his child. Not because of who I am; not because of what I do; but because he sent his Son to be my Savior. God reaches down to us in his love and he lifts us up. That is why God turns the standards of this world on its ears. Paul puts it so well in the epistle lesson: God nullifies all the powers and pretensions of our world so that we can't come before him and tell him how great we are, so that we cannot boast before him. Not at all. Paul tells us, that no one can boast before him. And, in concluding in verse 31, he states, "Let him who boasts boast in the Lord." I am saved--we are saved--only because of God's great love and devotion to us and for us. He is full of goodness and grace and mercy and love. And he freely bestows them all upon us in Jesus our Savior.

In the summer of 1986, two ships collided in the Black Sea off the coast of Russia. Hundreds of passengers drowned in the quickly sinking ships. News of the disaster was further darkened when an investigation revealed the cause of the accident. It wasn't a technological problem like radar malfunction--or even thick fog. The cause was human stubbornness. Each captain knew of the other ship's presence. They even knew that they were on a collision course. Both could have, and should have, steered clear, turning to starboard, to the right, but according to news reports, neither captain wanted to give way to the other. Each was too proud to yield first. By the time they came to their senses, it was too late.

In our stubbornness and pride, we say that Paul is wrong; or we can say that God is wrong. Or, by the power of God the Holy Spirit, we can praise him and thank him for choosing us, forgiven sinners, to be his sons and daughters, to be his people, to be his church--for that is exactly what he did. And for that, I give him my thanks and praise. Amen.

And may the peace of God which far surpasses all human understanding keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.