There are passages in Scripture we know only too well, but which we understand alarmingly badly. Paul’s words about love to the church in Corinth rank high among them. Far from being designed with wedding services and marriage enrichment weekends in mind, they were first spoken with a sting in the tail. One that would most certainly have been felt by his original readers.

As numerous commentators point out, almost every phrase what Paul says by way of description and definition of agape love was a direct response to the way it was glaringly absent from the congregation he was addressing. So, when he speaks to this church that had a somewhat inflated view of its own gifts – especially in the realm of tongues, prophecies and grasp of mystery – he makes it clear that the very best expressions of them are worthless if exercised without love.

So too when Paul switches tone and goes on to describe love in a series of affirmations and denials. Each detail and even the order in which his catalogue unfolds were geared to touch a spiritual raw nerve in Christians who clearly were not known for any of these traits – either within the fellowship or by their pagan neighbours looking on.

But what is perhaps most interesting is the way in which Paul makes his point to these people, not by pointing the finger directly at them; but instead by pointing to himself. It appears from Paul’s testimony not only about his pre-conversion life as a Pharisee, but also about his post conversion days as a Christian apostle, entrusted with an extraordinary mission by the exalted Christ, that the very things he identifies in relation to love (or lack of it) were too often true of him.

Indeed from what he would later say to this same church in 2Corinthians 12.1-10, it was clear he had a tendency to misuse the gifts and privileges God had given for his personal glory. So much so that God had to send him a ‘thorn in the flesh’ and a ‘messenger of Satan’ to prevent him from becoming conceited. The apostle knew very well that great privilege and giftedness in themselves do not constitute great usefulness in the work of the gospel. To have them and use them without love is to negate their value and effectiveness.

In that sense, the one group of people who arguably most need to hear these words from the apostle are those who frequently preach them to others, but have never actually paused to reflect on them for their own personal challenge, instruction and benefit.

There is a huge temptation in Christian ministry – whether for those for whom it is their full-time vocation, or for those involved in lay ministry – for those who minister to find their worth, meaning and purpose in life through what they do. But if they engaged in even a modicum of soul-searching they would have to admit that their motivation was not love for God, his people and those in need of salvation.

The tragedy in this is that sooner or later the mask must slip. Quite apart from the reality that God is never fooled by the masks we create, those we work with will very quickly see through us as well. They will see whether or not we preach to them and pastor them out of concern for their spiritual well being, or as a genuine extension of God’s love displayed through our lives. So too with our efforts to reach out with the gospel: do we do it out of a bare sense of obligation, or because we share the concern of the Good Shepherd who wept over the lost and pleaded with them to believe in him?

It is not hard to read these words about love in Corinthians and completely miss the way they speak into the world of ministerial professionalism. ‘If I am the most eloquent preacher, whose sermons have a prophetic edge and are suffused with the deepest insights into the text, but have not love, I am nothing.’ ‘If my theology is orthodox to a tee and my defence of the faith vigorous and incontrovertible, but is lacking in love – even for my atheist opponents – I gain nothing.’ ‘If my job title is “Pastor” and my calling is to care, but I perform my duties merely as ‘duties’ – without patience and kindness, even filled with envy, boasting and pride – then my best efforts are worthless before God and men.’ Indeed, to the contrary, if we – in whatever form of Christian ministry we find ourselves – are quietly adept at ‘keeping a record of wrongs and delighting in evil’ or if we ‘rejoice in distorting the truth, gloat over the failures of others, are always suspicious and pessimistic and are quick to quit’, then perhaps we need to think again about our grasp of grace and our suitability for service.

In a real sense, Paul’s words should strike home to every in minister’s heart in the same way as they did to his own heart. This was the same apostle who spoke candidly and with obvious shame about his propensity to covet in Romans 7. So much so, the only way he could describe himself as a ‘wretched man’ needing to be delivered from himself and what he deserved. But as he cried out as to where that deliverance might come from, he had no hesitation in answering his own question: ‘Thanks be to God – Through Jesus Christ our Lord!’ (Ro 7.25).

Therein lies the heart of genuine agape love: a self-awareness in the light of Christ that leads to godly self-loathing; but which does not run away from Christ, instead is irresistibly drawn in love to him who first loved us! In him and through him alone will our labours never be in vain.

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