Once upon a time, there was a Corinthian King who said he loved his country. He said, “I love the poorly educated.” He also said, “When somebody’s nice to me, I love that person. Even if they’re bad people, I couldn’t care less. I’ll fight to the end for them.” Perhaps he thought, “nobody knows more about love than I do.” After all, he had claimed to know more about many things than his advisers and those who were bona fide experts in their field.
The Corinthian King was impatient. He negotiated by issuing ultimatums. But he was kind to those who were loyal to him. He provided aid to those who supported him. Those who questioned or criticized him got nothing – even in the event of a natural disaster. His decisions were often based on jealousy of his predecessors’ accomplishments. He did all he could to erase these from his subjects’ memories.
He planned huge memorials in his own honor: ballrooms, buildings, and triumphal arches. He spoke regularly about how he was the greatest, the smartest, the dealmaker, the peacemaker. He rewarded those who praised him and disenfranchised anyone who did not. He insulted honorable and earnest people – journalists, professors, legislators, families of deceased veterans, and even veterans themselves – especially if he didn’t think they were sufficiently loyal to him.
He raged against disloyalty more than incompetence. He pardoned people who committed the same crimes he said he wanted to fight – fraud, abuse of the system, drug smuggling. And he had a list of people he wanted to target for “retribution.” He even hired people to help him get revenge on his enemies.
The King took great delight in repeating lies and misrepresenting facts to justify his beliefs and inflate his importance. He took pride in taking credit for the work of others as well as deflecting blame and covering up his own wrongdoing. He protected himself, even though some of his loyalists ultimately took the blame for his actions. He trusted no one except other rulers who were like him and of course treated him nicely.
He changed course by the day, the hour, or even by the minute. Tariffs or not? War or not? End a civilization or not? To him, everything was a game. And winning was the most important thing. Every action was calculated on how it made him look, or how much money he and his closest friends could make from it. The King changed like the wind whenever it might benefit him.
Yet, some Corinthians realized that their King wasn’t the only problem. Those who were honest with themselves noticed that self-dealing and self-aggrandizing behavior spread well beyond the palace walls. For all had sinned and had wanted what they wanted when they wanted it. Many had not given a second thought to others. “What’s it to me?” was the refrain around Corinth. “As long as I get what I want, what difference does the King’s behavior make?” The Corinthians had failed to understand that they shared the impulses of their King. If they were always asking, “What’s in it for me?” their King would too. If they failed to love, what made them think their King would do better?
Love is demanding. It’s impossible to live up to the pretty words Paul wrote. We can lose hope. We can replace trust with fear and cast others aside rather than protect them. We can choose to give up. But we can also choose to live up to the law of love, even if the King of Corinth did not. And like the Corinthians, we can pray for the day when a new King arrives to share our ideals, which after all are the ideals of the King of Kings.
From Corinthians, Chapter 13: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres…And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
MurrayWorks 