Church in the Wild
Week 18: Married Life
Pastor Rick Henderson May 9-10, 2026
Note: This manuscript isn’t a transcript of the sermon, but a planning guide showing what the speaker intends to say.
You’ve heard me say before that I’m just trying to be the person my dog thinks I am. That’s why we love dogs. They think we’re the best. I hope it’s OK if I start with a little confession time. It’s not a problem when my dog makes me out to be better than I am. But sometimes it feels like my calendar has an inflated view of me. Do you ever feel that way?
There are days I look at my calendar and it’s saying to me, “Rick, you are holding the whole world together on Tuesday at 3 p.m.” And my brain is going, “That can’t be true. If I stopped answering email for a week, pretty sure the sun still comes up, stores stay open, and my favorite football team still invents a new way to lose in the fourth quarter.” So, I’m stuck bouncing back and forth between thoughts that tell me, “I’m very important,” and thoughts that say, “I’m just an extra in someone else’s story.” And that’s where a lot of us live, right? Which is why certain questions keep popping up from time to time.
- If I stopped showing up and faded into the background, what would be different? Who would feel it the most?
Then there’s that nervy, humming little part of us that never really powers down. You know what I’m talking about. Your body is on the couch, but your mind is double checking the locks, replaying the conversation, scrolling the news, scanning for what could go wrong next. You can be on vacation, at the lake, holding a bougie coffee and a donut, and still feel like you’re one notification away from everything sending you into overdrive or crisis mode. And so, you quietly wonder, maybe at 2 am.
- What am I supposed to do with the part of me that never really relaxes? How do I live with the version of me that never quite feels okay?
And then there’s the chase. We tell ourselves, “Once I get there, then I’ll be good.” Once I get that job, that number in the bank account, that relationship status, that house, that body, that feeling of being “put together.” We don’t say it out loud in church, but we live like life is one big video game level, and we’re trying to finally beat it.
But what if you do?! What if all the doors open, all the prayers get a yes, all the dreams
more-or-less come true? That’s when the most haunting question sneaks in.
- What if I get everything I’m chasing, and it still doesn’t feel like enough?
Those three questions are just different versions of the same ones I’ve brought up dozens of times before. They are questions of:
- SIGNFICANCE: If I stopped showing up and faded into the background, what would be different? Who would feel it the most?
- SECURITY: What am I supposed to do with the part of me that never really relaxes? How do I live with the version of me that never quite feels okay?
- SATISFACTION: What if I get everything I’m chasing, and it still doesn’t feel like enough?
These questions are not for “broken people out there.” They’re for people who look fine, who are high functioning, who go to church, who serve, who lead, who post perfect pictures of Mother’s Day brunch later today. They’re for people like you and me.
I hope you hear me loud and clear. This is for the committed followers of Jesus, and I want all the skeptical and curious people to listen too. Jesus will never ask you to stuff those questions down and pretend you’re fine. Those questions are a great meet-up point with him. I’m inviting you to hold them open and see what He does with them.
1 CORINTHIANS 8
We’re going to jump into a passage that I’m convinced, the heart of the passage has a lot of touch points with how we answer those questions. And once I start reading, you're going to think I’ve lost my mind, that nothing I read comes close to those three questions. What we’re about to read is one of those chapters that I know some of you skip over because it feels boring, weird, and irrelevant. Here we go.
1 CORINTHIANS 8:1-13 Now about food sacrificed to idols: We know that “We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by God. So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that “An idol is nothing at all in the world” and that “There is no God but one.” For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”), yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live. But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food they think of it as having been sacrificed to a god, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled. But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do. Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone with a weak conscience sees you, with all your knowledge, eating in an idol’s temple, won’t that person be emboldened to eat what is sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother or sister, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall.
Weird, right? Let’s start here.
1 CORINTHIANS 8:1 Now about food sacrificed to idols: We know that “We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up.
Ignore the food sacrificed to idols part for a minute and zoom in on this [pointing to screen]. That’s so good it should be a fill-in-the-blank.
Knowledge PUFFS up. Love BUILDS up.
Whatever trust level you have with the Bible, high or low, this is one of those Bible nuggets that is timeless and undeniably true. Knowledge puffs up. Love builds up.
Knowledge really does puff us up fast. You can watch a 12‑minute YouTube video on crypto, gut health, or “how to fix your slice in one simple move,” and suddenly you’re the resident expert at the office. You’re explaining blockchain to people who just asked where the coffee filters are. You’re diagnosing everyone’s stomach issues at small group. You’re correcting your buddy’s golf grip even though you still lose three balls a round. That’s knowledge puffing up. It inflates your confidence way faster than it builds your character, or your humility, or your track record of helping people.
Knowledge is good, and I don’t want to discount what you know. Here it is. Knowledge alone inflates our confidence, not necessarily our character or helpfulness.
Love, on the other hand, builds up. Love doesn’t rush to talk; it slows down to listen. Love doesn’t think, “I watched a video, so I should definitely share my opinion.” No, it thinks, “I learned something—how can I use it to serve you?” Knowledge alone says, “Let me show you how much I know.” Love says, “Let me show you how much I care.” Knowledge alone wants to win arguments in the comments section. Love wants to sit across a table, hear the story, and leave the person stronger, not feeling smaller. Same information, totally different impact. One inflates egos, the other builds people.
Psychologists have a name for what happens when we know just a little and feel like we know a lot: the Dunning–Kruger effect. It’s that curve where the less you know, the more confident you tend to be. You watch a couple of videos, listen to half a podcast, and suddenly you’re at the top of “I got this” mountain. Here’s another way it shows up. When someone is genuinely an expert in a subject or has been financially successful, they may overestimate their expertise in unrelated areas. That’s the Dunning-Kruger effect.
But as you really start to learn, your confidence drops, maybe it’s better to say hubris drops, because you realize how much you don’t know. You start realizing that you don’t even know what you don’t know.
[Pointing to screen] 1 Corinthians 8 was pointing at this long before it had a label. Knowledge by itself makes us feel big, but love—humble, others‑focused, patient love—is what actually builds people up.
So, to the people in this church who were desperate to feel significant, and who thought that being know-it-alls made them significant, the Apostle Paul wrote this.
1 CORINTHIANS 8:2-3 Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by God.
It’s like he’s saying, if the starting point of your significance is how much you know, it doesn’t matter how much you know—there’s so much more that you don’t. There’s a better starting point to the story of you than simply being puffed up. Being puffed up is a poor and pathetic substitute for being built up. The better starting point, the starting point of truly being built up, comes from being known and loved by God. He is our creator. He is the only reliable, unshakable, unbreakable source for significance, security, and satisfaction.
The urgency of this was driven home for me recently when a friend shared Theo Vonn’s podcast. If you don’t know him, he’s a comedian. If you do know him, you’re probably surprised that his content is being used at church. I don’t know where he is spiritually. I don’t know if he’s a man of faith or a man who’s exploring faith. He’s on a real spiritual journey.
What I’m about to play is part of his response to someone who shared struggles of feeling stuck in a cycle of bad decisions. This is just part of Theo Vonn’s response to why he’s praying and considering Jesus. This is a pretty raw story about his search for significance.
VIDEO: Theo Vonn
The details for you may be very different from his, but I think a lot of us know what it’s like to be tired of a story we’re living. It works for a while and then it doesn’t. The point that the Apostle Paul is pressing home is that there is a better story. The better story doesn’t come from achieving significance through how much you know, or how much you accomplish, how much you earn, how many people give you the temporary dopamine hit of approval, applause, sex, or attention.
The better story, the one that will never break you or exhaust you, the better story that will build you up, giving you a life of significance, security, satisfaction—true joy and contentment—that comes from God through Jesus Christ. Trusting in that changes everything. I mean putting the weigh to of your life onto him. Letting him shape and edit everything about you.
In my 30s I read a book that changed my life. The author explains how Jesus fulfills our need for significance.
“The point of the cross is that through Christ’s death and resurrection, we have become acceptable to God. This did not occur because God decided He could overlook our sin. It occurred because Christ forgave all of our sins so that he could present us to the Father, holy, blameless, and beyond reproach…Many of us are like the Christians at Corinth. We still try to obtain our significance the world’s way, through success and approval…Whether [other people] accept us or not, we are still deeply loved, completely forgiven, fully pleasing, totally accepted, and complete in Christ. He alone is the final authority on our worth and acceptance.”
–Robert S. McGee (The Search for Significance)
When you discover this, when the penny drops for you, it will feel like you’ve discovered the cheat code to life. Church person, if you have a quick response to this that is something like, “Yeah, yeah. I know that—so what’s next?” Pause. That could be the Dunning-Kruger effect talking. This is a showstopper. This is everything.
The stuff that comes next in this chapter will never truly land until this gets into us. What comes next might inspire you. It might help you improve your relationships. But it will never land until it settles onto us and into our bones that in Christ all our search for worth, safety, and fulfillment in life is found.
Let’s get back to this chapter.
1 CORINTHIANS 8:4,6 So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that “An idol is nothing at all in the world” and that “There is no God but one.”… yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.
Even if you don’t know anything about the specifics, you know there is some sort of problem related to food and idol worship. The solution for the anxious tension in the church was remembering their life in Jesus. What exactly was going on?
Most people lived their lives dancing in and out of food insecurity. Except for the wealthy, meat was hard to come by. Religious significance and strange ideas were attached to food in a way that most of us can’t relate to.
FOOD FIGHT:
- Jews maintained strict dietary standards (NO: pork, meat with blood, meat from a strangled animal, meat sacrificed to an idol).
- Pythagoreans believed that if you eat meat, you could be eating a reincarnated ancestor.
- Fun Fact: The Roman senator, Cato, believed that cabbage was the best vegetable because of its medicinal qualities. He advised washing sick babies in the urine of people who ate cabbage.
- Meat sacrificed to idols was the centerpiece of important social gatherings and business associations.
If you weren’t present or didn’t participate, it could affect your standing in the community and your ability to earn money. How many of you can relate to feeling pressured to participate in or be adjacent to something you weren’t comfortable with, but you did it because you were afraid of losing standing, missing out on a promotion, or a business deal?
If you weren’t wealthy, oftentimes your best access to meat would have been a sort of mystery meat pie that was served by a street vendor. Somewhere in the sourcing of that meat, it was probably sacrificed to an idol. Avoiding meat sacrificed to an idol would be like living without a cell phone today. You could do it, but it would take some sacrifices on your part.
- Everyone in 1st century Roman world: “You are what you eat.” Food was an expression of personal holiness.
Food was a unifier and a divider. We can’t relate to that context. But we can relate to living in an environment where people are easily divided, can’t we? We can relate to gathering together in church with people who bring divergent cultural and political viewpoints that would start fights or shut down family dinners out there, and yet we’re bound together by something bigger and more urgent than all of that in here. How does that work?
1 CORINTHIANS 8:7-9 But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food, they think of it as having been sacrificed to a god, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled. But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do. Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone with a weak conscience sees you, with all your knowledge, eating in an idol’s temple, won’t that person be emboldened to eat what is sacrificed to idols? So, this weak brother or sister, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall.
I think we can summarize it like this. Idols aren’t real. If you eat a burger sacrificed to an idol, you’re just eating a burger. Some of you have made a clean break with the idolatry of your past. You know it’s nonsense. Eating a Zeus burger doesn’t affect you.
But you have friends who are still learning to be with Jesus, become like Jesus, and do as he did. You have brothers and sisters in Christ whose footing is a bit more fragile. If you served them up a Zeus burger, they would slip back into that old way of thinking and behaving. So, you are free to eat a Zeus burger. But it would be an abuse of your freedom to eat it if it has a negative impact on a weaker brother or sister.
We get this. We even have our own example. You are free to drink alcohol responsibly or not drink at all. Not drinking doesn’t make you a better Christian. If you drink, it doesn’t make you a worse Christian. But if you drink around someone who’s in recovery, because you are free and have the right to drink—you’re a jerk.
When we prioritize our RIGHTS, relationships tend to go WRONG.
Isn’t it true that the people who leave no room for doubt that they love you, the people who get the most access to you, the people you trust the most and who have the greatest influence on you are the people who have happily said no to a right or freedom they had so that they could serve your best interest?
- Aren’t those the dearest friends?
- Aren’t those the kinds of parents we want to have or long to be?
- Aren’t those the kinds of bosses, coaches, or teachers for whom we gladly give our best?
- Aren’t those the kinds of relationships that we’d love to have at church and in our small groups?
From the beginning, churches were countercultural communities, putting people into relationships where they shared meals and unguarded closeness with each other, all the while contradictory and often offensive beliefs and traditions about all kinds of things hummed in the background. The expectation that Paul communicated was that, because of who they are in Christ, because they are so grounded, secure, and enough in Christ, they would navigate the chaotic, relational messiness by upholding unity and deference to one another at the expense of personal freedoms and rights.
In 30 seconds I’m going to put on the screen a promise that I want to make to you and that I want you to make to each other and to everyone in your life. But this promise will prove impossible, it will break the best of us and we will break the promise if we start from a place of being puffed up instead of being built up by the love of Jesus Christ.
I will never sacrifice your WELL-BEING on the altar of my FREEDOM.
Communion is where we stare straight at the truth that Jesus practiced what we’ve been talking about. He didn’t just say, “I will never sacrifice your well-being on the altar of my freedom.” He lived it. Philippians tells us that though he had all the rights, privileges, and status of God, he “gave up his divine privileges,” took on the role of a servant, and obeyed all the way to death on a cross for us. At the center of the universe is not a God who clings to his rights, but a Savior who gladly lays them down so that you can be forgiven, made new, known, and secure forever.
That means when you hold the bread and the cup, you are holding a declaration over your deepest questions of significance, security, and satisfaction. The broken body of Jesus says, “You matter so much to me that I gave up my freedom, my comfort, my reputation, and my very life for your well-being.” The shed blood of Jesus says, “You are not one bad week, one bad decade, or one bad decision away from losing me. I’ve already paid for it.” Communion is a reenactment of the moment when Jesus put your well-being ahead of his own rights in the most costly way imaginable.
So as we come to the table, I want to invite you to do two things. First, bring those questions we started with—“Do I matter? Am I safe? Will anything ever be enough?” Lay them right next to the bread and the cup. Let the cross be God’s answer to all three. Second, let this meal reshape how you think about your own freedom. The same Jesus who gave up his freedom for your good now invites you into a life where you gladly limit your freedom for the good of others, not to earn his love, but because you already have it.
Communion.