The Light the World Does Not Expect

Excerpt of “The Light the World Does Not Expect” preached January 25, 2026

1 Corinthians 1:18-31 | Matthew 5:1-12

Have you ever considered the concept of paradox? It’s a word that we are aware of, but rarely reflect on. The Oxford dictionary defines paradox as “a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigated or explained may prove to be well founded or true.” There are many paradoxes throughout scripture. Scripture often speaks truth in ways that initially sound impossible, precisely because God’s ways refuse to fit neatly within human logic. This past Wednesday, discussing “Reading John for Dear Life,” Nicodemus was highlighted with the paradox of being born again, but not from your mother’s womb. In Nicodemus’ perspective, it was absurd to be born again and he couldn’t fathom. Yet, Jesus’ words to him were right and true.

Jesus often used paradox as a way of opening his listeners to the deeper realities of the kingdom of heaven. He wanted to show a new way forward, a way that was not like what they imagined or believed prior. And through this method, people appeared to have hung onto his every word. Or it at least created a crowd who wanted to hear.

What Jesus proclaims on the mountainside is the same truth he lives out through his entire ministry. What is valuable in the kingdom of heaven is not valued here. Yet, he pursued to change the narrative by living his life in the way that he did. He showed compassion, humility, mercy, peace, and even restraint. When Jesus knew the time had come to face crucifixion and death head-on, it wasn’t that he was not afraid. In fact, it’s in this same Gospel that Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Jesus understood the gravity of the situation and the pain he would endure. But, he also understood how the cost of this world weighs on humanity.

Jesus knew what it was like to be tempted, tired, even famished. He spent time in the wilderness prior to his sermon on the mount and before he even called the disciples to follow him. Yet, he knew deep down that when you are stripped of everything you have, everything you work towards, everything you once possessed — you are able to see what is really valued in life. Perhaps that is the reason he began his sermon on the mount with the beatitudes because he knew the people needed to hear that the values of the kingdom of heaven are paradoxical to the values of this world.

Paul picks up this same paradoxical vision when he writes to the church in Corinth, now centered not on a hillside, but on the cross. He wanted to recenter them on the theology of the crucifixion. In fact, this comes directly after a call for unity among them. Could there be anything that would unite them more than the crucifixion? In Charles Campbell’s commentary on 1 Corinthians, he explains how the crucifixion is paradoxical in nearly every aspect: theological, political, and cultural. He writes, “It was a scandalous, even blasphemous paradox. It was, in short, foolishness. Indeed, according to some scholars, the translation, ‘foolishness,’ is actually too tame. It was, rather, ‘madness.’”

There’s a sense of irony in the fact that Jesus does not shy away from the dangers they will face — even in the form of persecution. In fact, he calls them to rejoice and be glad. Paul made a similar claim, reminding them that, “the one who boasts boast in the Lord.”

What both Jesus and Paul seem to be pressing upon us is this: the paradox of the kingdom is not meant to be admired from a distance, but lived into. The Beatitudes are not poetic observations about someone else’s spiritual life; they are an invitation into a way of seeing the world — and ourselves — through the lens of God’s grace rather than human achievement. Likewise, the cross is not simply a theological concept to be affirmed, but a reorientation of what we trust, what we pursue, and where we place our hope.

This is where the paradox becomes personal. Because everything in us resists this way of life. We are conditioned to value strength, competence, productivity, and control. We are taught that blessing looks like security, success, and self-sufficiency. Yet Jesus stands on the mountainside and declares blessing upon the poor in spirit, the grieving, the meek, and the persecuted. Paul stands before a fractured church and proclaims that God has chosen what the world calls foolish to reveal what is truly wise.

The question, then, is not whether we understand the paradox, but whether we are willing to trust it. To trust this paradox is to believe that humility, mercy, and peacemaking are not signs of weakness, but marks of God’s kingdom.

It means that God is most at work not when we are impressive, but when we are honest; not when we are strong, but when we are dependent; not when we boast in ourselves, but when we boast in the Lord. It means allowing the cross — not success, not fear, not power — to shape our imagination for what faithfulness looks like.

For the Corinthians, this meant laying down their divisions and their claims to superiority. For the crowds on the mountain, it meant reimagining what it meant to be blessed. And for us, it means asking where we have allowed the values of the world to quietly replace the values of the kingdom. Where have we equated God’s favor with comfort? Where have we confused wisdom with winning? Where have we avoided the vulnerability that the gospel requires?

The good news is that the paradox does not leave us empty-handed. Jesus does not call the poor in spirit blessed and then abandon them. Paul does not proclaim the foolishness of the cross without also proclaiming Christ as our righteousness, holiness, and redemption. The paradox is not a trick — it is a promise. That when we loosen our grip on what the world calls strength, we discover the grace of God already holding us.

And so, like those gathered on the hillside, and like that divided church in Corinth, we are invited not to resolve the paradox, but to live within it. To rejoice and be glad — not because life is easy, but because God is faithful. So, may we boast — not in ourselves, but in the Lord. And may we trust that what looks foolish in the eyes of the world may, in fact, be the very wisdom that leads us into life. Amen.