Sermon – God’s Wisdom, Not the World’s

God’s Wisdom, Not the World’s

Sermon Preached by Reverend Tracey Gracey on Sunday, 1 February 2026

Have you seen the film Gladiator — starring Russell Crowe?

It tells the story of Maximus, a loyal general who is betrayed by those in power, publicly humiliated, stripped of his status, and left for dead. His family is taken from him, his identity erased, and his future destroyed. He survives, but is forced into an existence where survival becomes a daily battle.

As the story unfolds, Maximus does not simply endure his suffering; he carries it. Over time, that suffering is turned outward. His life becomes focused on one thing — exposing evil and pursuing revenge. The wrong done to him must be addressed. Justice must be done. Power must be confronted and overcome.

This is a familiar storyline played out in many movies.

Where we have an innocent person who has been wronged,
who has been brought low by injustice,
who then rises again to set things right,
and where suffering is not the end of the story, but the way through, until justice comes when power is taken back.

And when that moment comes in a film,
It feels good! Because evil has been overcome.

This is a very human response.

Many of us carry a desire for wrongs to be avenged and for evil to be dealt with — especially when we look at the world around us.

When we watch current world events unfold, war, violence, oppression, and the abuse of power, we can find ourselves thinking that retaliation is not only understandable but necessary.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is written to unsettle exactly this way of thinking.

Paul writes to a newly formed Christian community trying to work out what it means to be followers of Jesus in a world shaped by honour, status, and competition.

Disagreements have emerged around questions of wisdom, authority, and power, revealing just how easily the values of the wider culture have begun to shape the life of the church.

Paul’s concern is not simply to correct what they are doing, but to reshape how they see God and power.

And so he draws them back to the heart of the gospel:

“We proclaim Christ crucified.”

Not Christ victorious in battle.
Not Christ exposed and vindicated through revenge.
But Christ crucified.

For Paul and his hearers, the cross was a sign of utter failure.

It was a public execution designed to humiliate, silence, and erase. It said: this life does not matter; this person has no future.

This is why Paul says that the message of the cross sounds like foolishness to some and a scandal to others. By the world’s expectations, the cross looks like failure, not victory.

We see Jesus as in innocent victim who is publicly humiliated and crushed by religious and imperial power.

This is where, in every story we know, we expect power to be reclaimed and evil to be overcome.

But that is not what happens here.

Jesus does not turn away death.
He does not reclaim power through force.
He does not defeat his enemies on their own terms.

Instead, Jesus absorbs violence without returning it.

On the cross, Jesus refuses to let violence, domination, and revenge shape God’s response to evil. He absorbs the full force of human cruelty without returning it. In doing so, he exposes what evil can do — and what it cannot do.

Evil can wound.
Evil can humiliate.
Evil can kill.

But it cannot bring life.
It cannot restore relationships.
It cannot generate love.

That is why Paul confidently states that,
“God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

In Gladiator, suffering is given meaning because it leads to revenge.
In the gospel, suffering is not redeemed by revenge — it is transformed by love.

The cross tells a different truth:
that retaliation may feel satisfying, but it does not heal; domination may silence opposition, but it does not reconcile; power may win control, but it does not save.

The wisdom of God revealed on the cross is not about winning.

It is about faithfulness.

It is about staying open to love when every instinct says to harden our hearts.

When we hear the Beatitudes alongside the cross, they begin to make a little more sense about what Jesus is seeking to teach his disciples.

The Beatitudes are not instructions we are required to follow, or standards we must reach.

They are words of promise — spoken for communities who are drawn into the life of Jesus.

They describe a way of living that is shaped by a faith-filled life.

In many ways, the Beatitudes are a portrait of Jesus himself.

He is poor in spirit, always seen to be dependent on God rather than self-reliant.
He is meek, refusing to grasp for power or control.
He is merciful, meeting others with compassion rather than judgement.
He is a peacemaker, working for restoration instead of retaliation.

This is the life we see lived fully on the cross:

a life that does not answer violence with violence, injustice with revenge, or suffering with domination.

The Beatitudes do not call us to become something Jesus was not.

They invite us to follow him and walk in his way.

They point to what a cross-shaped life looks like when it is lived day by day — marked by humility that trusts God rather than self, hope that refuses despair, and compassion that stays open to others

The cross tells us that love is stronger than violence.
The Beatitudes show us what it looks like to live as though that is true.

And together they remind us that God’s kingdom comes not through power reclaimed, but through lives shaped by Jesus. Amen