The Essentialness of Love

Good morning, everyone.
Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 13 should make every religious person pause.
He says I can speak impressively, understand prophecy, possess knowledge, have extraordinary faith, give generously, and make enormous sacrifices—and yet, without love, I am nothing.
Notice what Paul is doing. He isn't saying spiritual gifts are useless.
He's asking a more searching question:
What is driving them?

So someone can preach, teach, serve, know the Bible, and exercise spiritual gifts—and still not be spiritually mature?

Exactly.
That's one of the hidden jewels in this passage.
Spiritual giftedness is not proof of spiritual maturity.
That's why Paul can say, in effect, that I can be gifted, knowledgeable, generous, and deeply religious—and still be missing the one thing that gives it all meaning: love.
And that should make us uncomfortable.

But if someone is doing good things, isn't that evidence that they love?

Not necessarily.
The same action can come from very different motives. I can give because I love you—or because I want recognition.
I can defend truth because I love Christ—or because I enjoy proving someone wrong.
I can correct someone because I care—or because I enjoy being right.
The action may look religious. But God examines what is underneath it.

Then perhaps that's where church people can deceive themselves.
We attend. We teach. We sing. We give. We defend doctrine. We protect the church's reputation. And because we're doing all these things, we assume we're spiritually healthy.
But 1 Corinthians 13 asks a harder question:
How are people experiencing us?

Exactly.
Jesus warned that because of the increase of wickedness, "the love of most will grow cold."
Notice He didn't say their religion would necessarily disappear. He said their love would grow cold.

It is possible to remain religious while becoming increasingly unloving.
That may be one of the greatest spiritual dangers we face.

But what exactly is this love Paul is talking about?

It isn't merely affection, romance, or being nice.
Paul describes love by what it does.
It is patient, kind, doesn't envy, doesn't boast, isn't arrogant, doesn't dishonor others, isn't self-seeking, isn't easily angered, doesn't keep a record of wrongs, rejoices with truth.
In other words:
Love becomes visible in behavior.

Then love is something we should be growing in?

Yes.
And that's an important part of this lesson. Love isn't a box we check and then move on.
It is a life of growth.
Ask yourself:
Am I more loving today than I was five years ago?
Am I more patient?
More forgiving?
More generous with people who disappoint me?
More willing to listen?
More able to disagree without becoming hostile?
Because if my Christianity has grown stronger but my love has not... something is wrong.

That one bothers me.
Because I can become more knowledgeable without becoming more loving.
I can learn more doctrine.
Understand more prophecy.
Become more involved in church.
And still carry the same impatience, resentment, and pride I had years ago.
Maybe I've become better at being a church member without becoming more like Christ.

That's the mirror Paul holds up. The real test isn't how passionately we talk about love. It's how people experience us.

Imagine that tomorrow every religious title disappeared. No theological accomplishments. All that remained was how we treat people.
Would there be enough evidence of Christ in our lives for someone to recognize Him?
Because Paul doesn't merely say love is important.
He says:
"If I have not love, I am nothing."
That's devastating to religious pride.
That's where I think 1 Corinthians 13 becomes personal.

Perhaps the greatest danger isn't that we don't know what love is. We can know the chapter by heart...and still fail to recognize ourselves in it.

So let's stand before the portrait honestly.
Am I becoming more loving? Or merely more religious?
When people encounter me, do they encounter Christ?
When someone hurts me, what comes out?
When someone disagrees with me, what comes out?
When nobody is watching, what comes out?

And perhaps the hardest question of all:
How much of Christ can actually be seen in me?
Because 1 Corinthians 13 isn't merely a definition of love.
It is a portrait.
And the purpose of a portrait is not simply to admire the person in it.
It is to see ourselves more clearly.
Because the goal isn't simply to know what love looks like. The goal is to become a person through whom love can be seen.

And that is where the real conversation begins.
Am I growing in love?
Is my knowledge producing Christlike character?
And when people encounter me…do they experience something of Jesus?