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Love never ends. But all these good things in which we pride ourselves will. And, yes, I really do mean the good things — I’m not being sarcastic. What is today a spiritual gift will tomorrow cease to exist. Leadership — gone. Evangelism — gone. Teaching, shepherding, giving — gone, gone, gone. Even knowledge will disappear. Right now we teach what we know, but we’d do well to remember both knowledge and teaching are but a couple of crutches in a broken world. When the Kingdom arrives in its fullness, we’ll toss our crutches and run and play like children.
When I was a baby, you should have heard what I tried to pass off as English. And my logic wasn’t any better. But I was a baby, and that’s what babies do; it’s all I knew. After I graduated from college (the second time), took a few years to mature, learned to balance a checkbook, and found a wife who could straighten me out just a bit, I quit needing my diapers changed and stopped (for the most part) making unintelligible sounds.
Right now I see God like we’re at a stop light and he’s two cars ahead… with tinted windows… in the left turn lane… with an arrow that’ll turn green long before I go straight. But it won’t be long before I’ll see God as if he and I are sharing a coffee at Starbucks… at one of those really little tables for two… with nary a Macbook ‘twixt the two of us. Today I hear God’s voice like we’re on a Skype call from Tanzania to the US. But tomorrow it’ll be as if God’s met me at the airport baggage claim, and he’s whispering in my ear as we embrace… and together wait on my luggage. Because I’ll be home. Now I know God in part, but then I’ll know God as well as he knows me.
— an extremely loose modern-day retelling (and amplified version) of 1 Corinthians 13:8-12
This post is the third in a series on love from chapter 13 of 1 Corinthians. You can find said posts here: