The Half-God of Our Own Editing
1 Corinthians 6:9-10
"Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God."
Plus 1 (v. 11)
"And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God."
That’s the whole gospel in a nutshell:
1. Clear condemnation of sin (no broadening allowed).
2. Clear hope of transformation (no one is beyond redemption).
3. Clear identity change (you are no longer what you were).
In the church, then and now, the worldly minded people want verse 11 without verse 9–10. They want "you were washed" to mean "your sins were never really sins," instead of "your sins were so real that only the blood of Christ could wash them away."
The god of this world has blinded their eyes.
Paul goes on in the rest of the chapter to hammer home that the body is not for sexual immorality but for the Lord (v. 13), that sexual sin is uniquely self-destructive because it’s sin "against one’s own body" (v. 18), and that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. Bodies bought with a price, not our own to do with as we please (v. 19–20).
So when the popular church culture clamors to broaden the gate, 1 Corinthians 6 stands there like a flaming sword saying: The gate is narrow because the holiness of God is non-negotiable.
Where people mess up is in the invitation. The invitation is wide because the grace of God is inexhaustible, it's for everyone who will repent and believe. There's no distinction or discrimination in the invitation. The invitation is boundless and indiscriminate (v. 11). "Such were some of you" proves that every category in the list is populated by real people who sat in the Corinthian church; former fornicators, former idolaters, former adulterers, former πρακται of every kind, who are now washed, sanctified, justified. The church of the drop outs, sinners, failures, and fools.
Here's the Spirit filled capital "T" Truth about God's character: The same God who shuts the door on the unrepentant throws it wide open to the repentant. There’s no "respecter of persons" when it comes to either God’s wrath or God’s mercy. That’s why the gospel is simultaneously the most exclusive and the most inclusive spiritual message on earth.
Exclusive: only one way, Jesus. Only one response, repentance and faith.
Inclusive: that one way is offered freely to every tribe, tongue, background, and sexual history without exception.
The moment we blur the warning, we rob people of the urgency to flee to Christ. The moment we narrow the invitation, we slander the infinite worth of His blood. The moment we mingle our souls with the pagan spirits, with the false religions of the world, we crucify Christ again and again. So we keep both truths in tension. "Therefore honor God with your bodies." (1 Corinthians 6:20)
The "Church" are a funny people.
We’ll happily post slow-motion videos of snowflakes forming or the Fibonacci sequence in sunflowers and caption it "Look at the precision of our God!"…but the moment that same God gets precise about sexual ethics, fornication, marriage, gender, repentance, or holiness, suddenly His precision is "legalism", "judgmentalism," or "not loving."
It’s selective awe. We love divine intricacy when it’s about galaxies and embryos. And we hate divine intricacy when it’s about genitals and pronouns, when God's gaze is focused on our bodies and what we're doing with them. The Apostle Paul marveled at the detailed wisdom of God in creation (Romans 1:20, Romans 11:33); he also gave us the painfully detailed vice list in 1 Corinthians 6:9–10 and then said "and such were some of you" without flinching.
So why do we flinch?
Because when the precision stops being a pretty Instagram graphic and starts naming the very sins we’re still secretly fondling, it stops feeling like worship and starts feeling like exposure. That’s the real issue. Snowflakes don’t accuse us. Sunflowers don’t demand repentance. Galaxies don’t show up at our bedroom door asking who we took to bed last night. But 1 Corinthians 6 does.
We love the God of the telescope until He turns into the God of the microscope pointed at our hearts and our bed sheets.
Modern Christians flinch for one (or more) of three reasons:
1. We’ve never really felt the weight of our own guilt, so we think holiness is optional décor instead of oxygen.
2. We’re currently practicing (or justifying) one of the sins on the list and don’t want the mirror held up.
3. We’ve bought into the cultural lie that "love" means never making anyone uncomfortable, instead of the biblical truth that love warns the city before the walls fall (Ezekiel 33).
The moment God’s precision threatens our reputation, our personal desires, or our relativistic worldview, we reach for the same smoke machine and darkened mirrors the world uses:
"Jesus hung out with sinners" (true, but He never left them in their sin).
"It’s about relationship, not rules" (as if the God who wrote Leviticus can’t do both).
"Don’t judge" (quoting Matthew 7:1 while ignoring Matthew 7:5 and the next 19 verses).
So we end up with a generation that will cry over a nature documentary but sneer at a holiness sermon.
The antidote is simple and brutal:
Fall on your face before the God who is equally precise about the rings of Saturn and the boundaries of a marriage bed. Let the same awe that makes you whisper "Wow" at a nebula make you tremble at "Flee sexual immorality." Because the God who is that meticulous about both is the only One who can actually save us from both cosmic chaos and personal corruption. Until we stop flinching, we’ll keep worshipping a half-god of our own editing.
Prayer:
Father in heaven,
Holy, holy, holy are You, Lord God Almighty; the One who spoke galaxies into being with perfect precision and yet stooped to number every hair on our heads, who engraved Your moral law on tablets of stone and then wrote it again on hearts of flesh with the blood of Your Son. Forgive us for our selective awe. Forgive us for praising the God of the snowflake while ignoring the God who says, "Be holy, for I am holy." Forgive Your church for preaching a half-gospel that widens the gate and blurs the lines.
Do that again, Lord. Do it now.
Raise up a generation that trembles at Your word more than at the world’s applause. Give Your church pastors, prophets, and everyday saints who will preach 1 Corinthians 6:9–11 without subtraction or shame. Turn flinching Christians into fearless ones. Turn cultural accommodation into holy confrontation. Turn our selective awe into a wholehearted worship.
And Holy Spirit, fall fresh on Your people. Convict us. Cleanse us. Change us. Make us living proof that the same God who designs a snowflake can redesign a sinner. Until the world looks at Your church and sees not judgmentalism, but Jesus. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, the Righteous One,
who was precise enough to die for every single sin on Paul’s list
and powerful enough to wash every single sinner who repents of them.
Amen.