Out of Darkness
Scripture Reading: 2 Corinthians 4:5-12
On the night of January 27, 1956, with his wife and newborn infant daughter asleep, twenty-seven-year-old Martin Luther King Jr. was sitting by himself in his kitchen when he received a phone call. A menacing voice on the other end threatened that unless King left town within three days, his house would be blown up. King was living in Montgomery, Alabama, where he was in the midst of leading a boycott of the city’s racially segregated buses.
King later admitted that in the wake of that phone call he nearly gave up the struggle for civil rights that had already come to define him. “I was ready to give up,” he said. “With my cup of coffee sitting untouched before me, I tried to think of a way to move out of the picture without appearing a coward.”
It was not just his own or his family’s safety that concerned King. The phone call had also sparked a crisis of faith. In the King family, pastoring was something that was handed down from one generation to the next. King’s father and grandfather had both been pastors. “It was a kind of inherited religion,” King said, “and I had never felt an experience of God in the way that you must...if you’re going to walk the lonely paths of this life.”
That’s when King fell to his knees in prayer right there on the kitchen floor. While he was praying, he felt a sense of peace envelop him. “I could hear an inner voice saying to me, ‘Martin, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo! I will be with you, even until the end of the world.’”
By his own admission, it marked the first time that King—the grandson of a pastor, the son of a pastor, and a pastor himself—had experienced a personal encounter with God. Let’s note that it was not something joyful that led King to experience the presence of God. It was fear. It was affliction. It was persecution. It was the threat of violence, a threat that materialized three days later when his house was indeed bombed, although fortunately no one was injured.
The great ironic truth of the Gospel—contrary to the wisdom of the world—is that suffering and death are not signs of God’s absence but rather means through which God speaks, for God is no stranger to suffering or to death. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of Israel, the God who was incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth, was willing to suffer the agony and humiliation of the cross for our sake.
This marks our second straight week in one of Paul’s letters. Last week it was Romans and now 2 Corinthians. Unlike the church in Rome, which Paul had never even visited before he wrote the letter that became Romans, Paul had founded the church in Corinth. His connection to the church was deep and personal, if at times also contentious. But isn’t that like our personal relationships? The stronger the relational bond, the more vehemently, the more passionately we argue, as anyone who has ever discussed politics at the Thanksgiving table can attest.
A key source of the tension between Paul and the Corinthian church was their tendency to equate the Gospel with not only spiritual blessings—they were really into spiritual gifts—but physical blessings as well. While Paul had founded the church, the Corinthians had come under the influence of some so-called “super apostles.” Now, what made them supposedly “super” was not that they wore red capes or defended truth, justice, and the Israelite way. Rather, they had a tendency to boast, as Paul says, “in the way the world does” (2 Cor. 11:18).
Paul doesn’t go into specifics, but there are hints sprinkled throughout 2 Corinthians. Just imagine a televangelist with undeniable charisma but who wears designer suits, drives a Rolls Royce, and flies around the world on his private jet to speak at conferences and to appear for photo-ops, and who considers his wealth to be God’s reward for his own righteous behavior.
We might scoff at such a flagrant misunderstanding or outright perversion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but for many people who live paycheck to paycheck, who try to scrape together the rent each month, a pastor or evangelist pointing to himself and saying—“Look at how God has blessed me; God wants to bless you in the same way”— is a powerful message.
If you tell people what they want to hear, they will listen to what you have to say. They will come to your church. They will buy your book. They will subscribe to your YouTube channel. They just won’t hear the Gospel.
The Gospel is not a path to greater health, wealth, or influence. It’s the way of Jesus Christ. And the way of Jesus Christ leads to the cross. There is no way around it. There is no joy of Easter Sunday without the horror of Good Friday…without Judas’ betrayal, without Peter’s denial, without all the disciples abandoning Jesus…and without the cross. There is no resurrection without the crucifixion. There is no life after death without death.
Paul knows this. “For we do not proclaim ourselves,” he writes, “we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake.” The one whom Paul proclaims as Lord is the same one who was crucified. The one who sits on the throne is the same one who made himself a servant. And a servant is what Paul has become for the sake of his Lord, Jesus Christ.
The Gospel hasn’t made Paul a success; it’s made him a servant. Following Jesus Christ hasn’t solved all of his problems. In fact, it’s given him problems. “We are afflicted,” he writes, speaking not only for himself but for all followers of Jesus Christ, “perplexed,” “persecuted,” “struck down,” and “always carrying in the body the death of Jesus.”
Not only that, he goes on to say, “For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake.”
…the Gospel’s definition of success looks nothing like that of the world.
Boy! Who’d want to sign up for all that? That doesn’t sound like any fun. In all seriousness, Paul’s point is that the Gospel’s definition of success looks nothing like that of the world. Some influential members of the church in Corinth are looking askance at Paul and saying, “As you can see, God has clearly blessed us, but this guy’s life is a mess. It’s one calamity after another with him. Shipwrecks. Imprisonments. Beatings. Stonings. Do you really think that God has called him to be an apostle? Just look at how much he’s suffered!”
God is the one who lets light shine out of darkness…for Jesus Christ, and also for you.
The funny thing is, Paul wouldn’t disagree with their characterization of his struggles. In fact, later in this letter, he boasts of all the pain and suffering that he’s endured. Just listen to this:
But whatever anyone dares to boast of—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast of that. Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I. Are they ministers of Christ? I am talking like a madman—I am a better one: with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless floggings, and often near death. Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. And, besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I am not indignant?
If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness (2 Cor. 11:21b-30).
Boasting about weakness. This is the irony at the heart of the Gospel. In weakness there is strength. In humility there is greatness. In humiliation there is exaltation. In darkness there is light. This has been God’s way from the very beginning. Literally. The Bible begins with the creation story in Genesis. Out of the primordial chaos and darkness that preceded creation, God’s first act was to say, “Let there be light.”
Paul draws upon this and connects it with Jesus. “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”
Let’s take that one step further. The light of the knowledge of the glory of God shines in the face of Jesus Christ…who was crucified. How do we obtain knowledge of God? Should we look to philosophy? Theology? The stars?
No, Paul is intimating. Look to the cross. The knowledge of God and the glory of God are found in a Roman cross—a symbol of terror! Just try to wrap your mind around that! It’s like trying to ponder infinity. Its scope exceeds the human mind’s ability to grasp. The glory of God is found not in success but in sacrifice, not in force of arms but in arms outstretched upon a wooden cross. Out of the darkness of the crucifixion, the light of God shines in the face of Jesus Christ.
God is the one who lets light shine out of darkness…for Jesus Christ, and also for you. Out of whatever darkness you may experience—depression, loneliness, a broken relationship, anxiety for the future, regret about the past, financial distress, weakness of faith, health concerns, the death of a loved one—no matter the darkness, the light of God shines for you in the face of Jesus Christ. For while you may be afflicted in every way, you are not forsaken. “For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh.”