Bless Your Heart: The Love of Christ Compels Us (MPLS)

2 Corinthians 5:1-10, 14-21

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling — if indeed, when we have taken it off we will not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan under our burden, because we wish not to be unclothed but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.

So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord — for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For all of us must appear before the judgement seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil. For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

I don’t say this very often, so mark it down, but Poor Paul. 

He loves the church in Corinth fiercely for who they are and for who they are still becoming. But lately their relationship has been stretched and strained by distance. It’s hard to speak the truth with love, to shepherd folks to the precipice of comfort, when you are not together in one place breathing the same air, noticing body language, and building trust simply by being present. 

This year has given me fresh empathy for Paul and the fragility of his ministry, letters written and delivered weeks or months later. He adds more words for context and laces these letters with his own prayers, that the Holy Spirit will help a commission or concern land with the best of intentions. 

He can’t see their faces or hear their voices or feel the weight of what they carry in Corinth. He does not know exactly what they are reading or who they are listening to, but it’s enough to know there are prophets in town who disparage Paul’s ministry, who preach a shallow gospel, who give people hope that rushes and fades like simple sugar. 

There’s nothing shiny about the gospel Paul preaches. It’s tangled up in paradox and mystery and tension that makes them tired just thinking about it. 

How can they be perishing, but also living forever? 

What does it mean that they are naked, but also completely clothed? 

Why does he say they should be confident when everything is so confusing and division rumbles in their congregation? 

Paul spends all his words trying to offer something harder and truer than what the latest street preacher suggests, words that are hearty, news that can fortify and nourish even though it can be tough to swallow. He is doing a dance that leaders on the line know well. How do I leverage what I know and how well they know me for the sake of the WHY? How much do I push so they continue to engage the challenge, so they keep opening my letters, so they stay in the struggle to which we’ve been called? 

If it’s too little, he’s no better than the false prophets in town. If it’s too much, they’ll decide he’s the problem — and throw the good theology and sacred challenge out with him. 

Each member of the church is in a different place, listening for a different word. He can’t make everybody happy. And that’s not the point, anyway. 

So I’ll say it again. Poor Paul. Bless his heart. 

His letters are haunted by his own fear of failure and his desire to be believed, surely. But they are also filled with a courage that comes from knowing how much the content matters and that, even if his best efforts fall short, the body of Christ will live anyway. 

Because to date God has never given up on the church. When we get in the way, the Spirit finds another way — through and even in spite of us. 

When Paul reminds the Corinthians, he is also reminding himself:

• It’s the love of Jesus that compels us. 
• Confidence comes from this love, that trusts everything has already been accomplished. 
• Our job is to behave like it is true, ambassadors for the abundant life meant for everyone and everything. 

The church in Corinth felt many of the same pressures we’re feeling these days.

We are not the first generation to mismanage the love of Jesus; seek confidence in the systems of this world; look for everlasting life in the perishable things. 

As parts of the world reemerge from COVID, there is great rejoicing and relief. There are signs of resurrection in the proximate love, a simple touch, the delight of being together that is both ancient and brand new. 

And for many there is grief, too. For the loved ones lost, the lives changed, the brokenness revealed, and the spiritual fog. Families like mine have mixed feelings since children still need our protection and patience. 

We have been given fresh eyes for this world, a season for noticing how we have grown and adapted, learned and unlearned as people and communities. 

The old systems and metrics have been waiting for us, unchanged, eager to mold us back into their ways. They are even more stubborn and resistant to change than we are! They are ready to clothe us in hustle and status quo, in familiar patterns and the comfort of how we have always done things. 

But this morning we hear Paul declare with courage: everything old has passed away. See? Look. God has made a new thing in Christ. Though you are naked and groaning under the burdens of this world, God covers you in layers of 

Good. 
Very good. 
Beloved. 
Enough. 
God’s own delight. 

The gifts of the Spirit and the will to be who you actually are, not just what this world demands of you. These baptismal promises are not complicated. They are pure and true and filled with good things that fortify our becoming. They are the sacred ingredients for reconciliation and abundance. 

The promises are perfect. It’s just that the way they stick in our messy world can be a little tricky. They complicate our economies and politics and all the systems we build and inherit. 

They make for longer letters laced with paradox and mystery. They build a holy tension into our identity and relationships. They invite us to stand in the breach, between what we can see and what is unseen. Between what we can accomplish on our own and what we cannot. Between systems that contain us and a kingdom that desires we flourish. 

Welcome to the struggle, little Meta. It can be a real slog, a weary mess of dying and rising. But in a world terrified by death, you have been anointed an ambassador of life. This candle is like a flashlight for the dark and stormy seasons. These promises spoken over and around you are layers of protection for the fullness of who you will become. This community will not let you be forced into expectations and categories that perish, for you are a new creation, a testament that love wins. 

Friends in Christ, we do not give up because our hope does not depend on our own efforts or abilities. It lives in a guarantee from the Holy Spirit that God does not give up on us. Our groans and sighs are heard by the One who covers us in 

layers of abundance and life, who takes a keen interest in everything that is boring and broken and beautiful about being the church in this world. 

May God’s delight and attention for making things new cover you. May the layers of Christ’s love compel you to keep opening the mail, even when it complicates things. 

And may the Spirit who guarantees life give you the courage to look and live like you are free.