A preacher was visiting a congregation one Sunday — they as unknown to him as he was to them. “This is a bit uncomfortable for all of us, I suppose,” he said to open. “You’re out there wondering if I’m a good preacher. I’m up here wondering if you know what good preaching is.”
That is not a story from my future autobiography, I assure you.
Like the rest of us, Paul had plenty of opportunities for boasting if he were inclined to seek them. He lists some of them in Philippians 3:5-6. Circumcised. Descended from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Devout follower of Jehovah God for his entire life. A spotless reputation for righteousness among all who knew him. Such things were, in fact, used by many Jewish Christians to distance themselves morally and spiritually from others, particularly Gentiles.
But Paul abandoned such things.
There is a barber shop in India where they will set your hair on fire. On purpose, I mean. People ask for it. They douse your hair with fragrance to retard the smell of smoke (as if that were the main objection). Then they blowtorch you. The top of your head ignites. Flames shoot up, maybe six or eight inches. Then the barber just sits back there and combs and cuts, combs and cuts, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
