SERMON 8Feb2026  Living with Flavour

I used to enjoy watching TED talks.  TED is a short talk program where people present one idea in a limited time, aiming to make it clear, compelling, and persuasive. There are TED talks in many countries around the world. They are designed to do one thing well: clear logic. Persuasive speech. Confident presentations. People who promise ideas that can change the world in fifteen minutes. It’s easy to feel impressed and easy to applaud. This is what draws people in.

Ancient Corinth, in some ways, was a city like that.  Corinth was a city that admired good speakers. Orators, philosophers and teachers of rhetoric filled the streets, and people gathered in the public square to listen and to debate. They compared. Who was more persuasive? Who was more impressive? Who could capture people’s hearts?

The letter we read today, First Corinthians, was written long after Paul had planted the church in Corinth. In that letter, Paul looks back and remembers what it was like when he first arrived there. The first group of believers must have been curious. How persuasive would this new teaching be? How logically would he explain the name of Jesus Christ? Some may even have hoped that Paul would present the gospel using Corinthian-style eloquence, polished and impressive.

But Paul remembers it very differently. He says, “When I came to you, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God with lofty words or wisdom.” This statement would have sounded strange in Corinth. “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.” Paul is not sharing this memory just for nostalgia. He brings it up for a reason.

By the time Paul writes this letter, the Corinthian church is struggling. They are divided, measuring faith by outward strength. In Corinth, outward strength meant a way of life in which what sounded wise, looked spiritual, and drew attention.

So Paul takes them back to the beginning. He reminds them how the church was born. Not through impressive speech. Not through human wisdom. But through weakness and Christ crucified. This was the complete opposite of what the Corinthians wanted. No impressive rhetoric. No sophisticated philosophy. No confident charisma. Instead, what Paul brought was weakness, fear, trembling and Christ crucified.

That is why Paul goes on to say, “So that your faith might rest not on human wisdom, but on the power of God.” To the Corinthians, the cross did not look powerful. It looked like weakness. It looked like loss. And yet, Paul insists that this is precisely where the power of God is revealed, not a power that impresses or wins, but a power that gives life.

For this reason, Paul’s weakness was not a problem for God. It became space for God. His fear was not evidence of failure. It became the place where God’s power chose to dwell.

What Paul held onto was not what he could achieve, but who was holding him. His concern was not results, but direction. It was not a climb toward recognition, but a turning the cross. So Paul does not offer his résumé or promote his abilities. He offers his centre. And at the centre is Jesus Christ, crucified.

As Paul says, this faith is not something we figure out, but something God reveals by the Spirit. So what does a life shaped by this kind of power look like?

Jesus answers that question in the Sermon on the Mount. He says to his disciples, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.” Notice that Jesus does not say, “Try harder to become salt,” or “Work at becoming light.” Jesus makes a declaration. You are salt. You are light. This is not a task. It is an identity.

Salt does not draw attention to itself. It is hardly noticed. And yet, without salt, food quickly spoils. Salt quietly penetrates, slows decay, and brings out flavour.

Light works the same way. It does not need to explain itself. When it is present, darkness retreats. Jesus does not call us to be heroes who save the world. He calls us to live faithfully in the places we inhabit, to be salt where we are, and light where we stand. This is not a life of achievement, but a life lived by those who have already been changed.

Jesus continues, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” The goal is not that people admire us. The goal is that people see God.

Salt does not leave its name behind. Light does not point to itself. Salt disappears as it does its work. Light gives itself away as it shines. This is the way of the cross. In weakness, the life of God flows quietly and unmistakably.

Following the cross reshapes how we live. It is not a self-improvement project, not a drive to do more or train ourselves harder. Following the cross is being found by God. From that place, our understanding of ourselves begins to shift. We are not people who must prove ourselves.

We are people who are already loved. We are a people who belong, not a people who compete. We are people standing before God. A cross-shaped life is not forced or burdensome. Over time it becomes lighter rather than weighing us down. It opens us to freedom not pressure or constraint.

When people shaped by the cross gather, the shape of the community also changes. We value worship and prayer more than performance, more than what simply looks impressive on the surface. We make room for weakness. We walk at one another’s pace. Every day life becomes holy.

A cross-shaped community is not one that looks strong but one that chooses love as its direction. And it is in that place that the kingdom of God grows.

St Margaret’s seeks to be a community formed by the cross, rather than by appearances. We long to live this way; quiet like salt, present like light, faithful in ordinary days. We trust the God who works in weakness. We place our lives in the direction God is leading. This is the path we walk. The way of the cross. The way of Jesus’ disciples.