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169 2 Corinthians 10:1-6 Sermon 4 (September 7, 1984) An early example of Juel’s defense of the importance of speech in Christian life and faith, for, as he asserts, “words are one of the principal means through which God encounters us and works salvation.” Words in themselves are neither good nor bad; they can be used to proclaim the gospel or to attack it. Because words are capable of being vehicles of divine grace and promise, their skillful use should be cultivated in the community of faith. ——— In an era when military uniforms are no longer fashionable, Paul’s imagery is somewhat discomforting. He speaks of himself as a warrior for the Lord, engaged in combat. That language should have gone out with the Crusades. It sounds healthier to speak of pastors as servants or healers or helpers or even facilitators. Being a peacemaker sounds better than being a member of a Salvation Army. One reason, of course, is that battle imagery is dangerous. The heroic portrait of the warrior for Christ encourages a kind of aggressive zeal that has left too many scars on human society. The specter of unrestrained religious zealots imposing their will on others is a powerful deterrent for allowing religious views out into the public arena. It may seem wiser— safer—to protect ourselves with laws against would-be demigods and religious propagandists so that we can secure our peace and quiet behind locked doors and devote ourselves to less divisive pursuits, like discussing Trivial Pursuit, the imminent collapse of the Twins, or even walleyes. 170 Shaping the Scriptural Imagination Or perhaps you don’t agree. Perhaps Paul’s call to battle stirs something deep inside you, starts your juices flowing. Maybe you’re just itching for a fight, dying to find someone to blame. It can be invigorating to snuff out an enemy—whether among Republicans or Democrats, bureaucrats or the laity, historical critics or fundamentalists—to strike a blow on behalf of truth. Some of you may in fact be precisely the kind of people against whom society wants protection: stubborn, unable to imagine opinions other than your own, aggressive, preferring passion to argument. It was such types, in fact, against whom Paul was defending himself in the verses we just read from 2 Corinthians. There were leaders in the Corinthian church, probably outsiders, who had their own notions of what Christians ought to look like, and they had agreed that Paul was an ill-chosen leader. He lacked charm. Paul admitted that himself; he’d been thrown out of virtually every major city in the empire. He was not particularly impressive in debate. Paul admits that he was not overwhelming physically and that he was untrained in speech. What bothered Paul about the attack was not simply the threat to his leadership, but the conceptions from which it arose. His detractors preached a strong Christ, and they spoke of successful Christians. They seemed to be making of the crucified Christ a symbol for power that was little more than an excuse for the strong to lord it over the weak, and such views threatened the truth of the gospel. So Paul, the meek and gentle one, had to fight. He was unwilling to withdraw into his private world and to leave the Corinthian church to think what it wanted. That’s because he was a preacher of the gospel. The views of his opponents were obstacles to the truth, and so he attacked them. He sought to expose misconceptions and destroy their arguments so that the cross of Christ might remain clearly in view. His weapons were words; he appealed to his own experience; he made use of his opponents’ arguments against them; he drew from the tradition—all to gain a hearing for the gospel. Our culture places little value on words and ideas and argument, but they are all vitally important to the mission of the church. Part of your education here will be to learn, as my English teacher used to say, that words can be your friends—and that they can be enemies as well. Words can lie, manipulate, and make false promises until people believe nothing they hear. That’s a desperate plight: not to be able to share the deepest truths, because language is bankrupt and arguments unreliable. In such a world, people can have little in common but trivialities. Evangelism or political persuasion becomes little more than charming an audience or, failing...

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