Love goes both ways, Pt 19: Did you learn to love?

1 Corinthians 13:1-13           1If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.  3If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.  4Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  5It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  8Love never fails.  But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.  11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.  12For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.   13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 8:1b-3             1…We know that “We all possess knowledge.”  But knowledge puffs up while love builds up.  2Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know.  3But whoever loves God is known by God.

What marks a spiritual person?

If someone were to ask, “What does a truly spiritual person look like?”, most people—even in church circles—might describe someone who reads their Bible every day, prays eloquently, has strong spiritual gifts, or speaks with conviction.  Paul, writing to a divided and spiritually overconfident church in Corinth, delivers a radically different answer.  For him, the truest mark of spirituality is love—not just sentimental emotion.  Greek has four words for different aspects of love, one of which is agape (pronounced a-gah-pā).  This is the selfless, enduring, active love modeled on God’s love for us in Christ.

The Corinthian church was overflowing with spiritual experiences.  Tongues, prophecy, healing, wisdom—they had it all.  Yet Paul isn’t impressed.  He writes, “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Cor 13:1).  It’s striking how forceful this image is.  The sound he describes is not melodic—it’s abrasive.  Without love, the most awe-inspiring utterance becomes spiritual noise.  He continues, “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (v. 2).  Not less than I could be.  Not missing part of the picture.  Paul says, bluntly, “I am nothing.”  It’s a sobering claim.  A person can be intellectually brilliant, theologically astute, even filled with spiritual insight—and still be bankrupt without love.

Paul is making a definitive point:  Spiritual maturity is not measured by gifting or knowledge, but by love in action.  And he is redefining spiritual things not around power, or show, but around love.1  This pushes back against both charismatic elitism and doctrinal pride.  Spiritual gifts are manifestations of the Spirit (12:7), but love is the fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:22)—the lasting evidence that we belong to Christ.

Grace-gifts and love

Paul’s word for spiritual gifts—charismata—literally means “grace-gifts.”  They are divine empowerments given freely, not earned.  They serve a purpose: to build up the body of Christ (1 Cor 12:7).  But shockingly, Paul says you can operate in these gifts and still miss the heart of God.  “If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing” (v. 3).  Even sacrifice, Paul warns, can be spiritually hollow if done for pride or performance.  That’s because love isn’t merely an action—it’s a disposition of the heart.  Without the Spirit transforming our motives, even good deeds can be laced with self-interest.

Paul then shifts to describing what love is and isn’t.  Love is “patient,” “kind,” and “rejoices in the truth.”  It’s not “envious,” “boastful,” “proud,” “self-seeking,” or “easily angered” (vv. 4–6).  He isn’t giving us a greeting card definition of love.  He’s contrasting the Corinthian church’s behavior with the true character of Christlike love.  It’s easy to forget: this isn’t an abstract meditation.  Paul is writing to a real community marked by division, spiritual showmanship, and moral failure.  This chapter isn’t so much poetic as prophetic.  Paul is calling the Corinthians—and us—to a radical reevaluation of what matters most.

Love, in Paul’s theology, is not a virtue among others—it is the chief virtue.  Colossians 3:14 says, “Put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”  Love is the essence of the Christian life (Rom 13:10). This echoes Jesus’ own teaching that love of God and neighbor fulfills all the Law (Matt 22:36–40).  Spiritual gifts should never be used to elevate ourselves but to serve others in love.  When we admire someone’s gifts, we should also ask: Do they love well?  Do they build others up, or draw attention to themselves?

Pride is lethal

Nowhere is the absence of love more visible than in pride.  And Corinth was riddled with it.  People were comparing spiritual leaders (1 Cor 1:12), boasting in their knowledge (8:1), and using the Lord’s Supper to highlight class divisions (11:17–22).  Pride wasn’t a side issue—it was tearing the church apart.  That’s why Paul insists that love “does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking” (vv. 4–5).  Love and pride are mutually exclusive.  You cannot love someone well while trying to prove your superiority over them.  Love steps down so others can rise.  It listens.  It yields.  It doesn’t compete.

Paul adds: love “is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”  That’s deeply countercultural.  In a world where people cling to grudges and rehearse offenses, love chooses forgiveness.  It doesn’t tally up sins to use later as ammunition.  This is particularly important in community life.  Every church will have conflict.  But love refuses to weaponize memory.  He continues: “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (vv. 6–7).  Real love leans in when others withdraw.  It covers others, not to hide sin, but to protect dignity.  It hopes even when others give up.  It perseveres when things get messy.

The permanence of love

Paul now turns the Corinthians’ attention to eternity.  He reminds them that spiritual gifts—however impressive—are temporary.  “Where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away” (v. 8).  These gifts are partial tools for the present age.  When Christ returns and the fullness of God’s kingdom is revealed, these tools will no longer be needed.  He explains: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears” (vv. 9–10).  Spiritual gifts are like flashlights—helpful in the dark, but unnecessary when the sun rises.

He uses two analogies to make the point clearer.  First, childhood vs. adulthood (v. 11).  Just as children grow out of childish ways, so we will outgrow the limited means of knowing and serving God we currently possess.  Second, a mirror vs. face-to-face vision (v. 12).  In ancient times, mirrors were polished metal—not the clear glass we use today.  Seeing in a mirror was seeing in a dim, distorted way.  Paul says that’s what it’s like now.  But in the age to come, we will see God clearly, even face to face.

Then he concludes: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love” (v. 13).  Why is love the greatest?  Because faith and hope are provisional.  One day, faith will become sight.  Hope will be fulfilled.  But love never ends.  Love is not just the ethic of the present—it is the atmosphere of the new creation.

What about me?

1 Corinthians 13 is often read at weddings—and rightly so.  But in its original context, it’s not about romantic love.  It’s a corrective to a broken church.  It’s a call to maturity.  It’s a challenge to ego.  And it’s a vision of a new kind of community—a people marked not by status or spectacle, but by patient, humble, Christ-shaped love.

This kind of love isn’t easy.  It’s not natural.  It’s the fruit of abiding in Jesus, who said, “As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).  Jesus didn’t just teach love—He lived it.  He washed feet.  He welcomed sinners.  He endured the cross.  His love was the real thing—and it’s the model for us.  Paul insists that it is love that gives meaning and appropriate flavor to all other Christian living[1]

So if we want to ask, “What does spiritual maturity look like?”—Paul gives us the answer.  Look not at power, not at performance, but at love.  Remember, when you stand before Jesus on that Great Day, He will ask you, “Did you learn to love?”  How will you answer?

[1] Tom Wright, Paul for Everyone: 1 Corinthians (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 2004), 173.