By James Hannibal @jamesrhannibal

Prepare thyself, writer. Here cometh the soap box.

In the past few months, I’ve noticed a trend in Christian writing circles—on forums and panels and in our books and blogs. The conversation always goes something like this:

“I can write X because I am a strong Christian and participating in this worldly thing helps me reach people where they’re at. It’s like food for idols.”

For X, substitute foul language, sexual immorality, or the glorification of witchcraft, zombies, vampires, etc.

“Yes,” the others in the conversation say, nodding their heads as if that one phrase is sage wisdom. “Food for idols.”

Face palm.

For starters, applying Paul’s essay to the Corinthians in 1 Cor 8-10 in this manner is an apples-to-oranges comparison. And when applying it to foul language and erotica, it’s more like apples-to-sewage. But since so many in our profession are twisting this passage, let’s go ahead and untwist it. Let’s glean from God’s Word through Paul the real lessons that apply to our writing.

The Context

Paul is either writing this essay to address a single Corinthian question, “Can we eat food sacrificed to idols,” or adjudicating a dispute between “stronger” Christians who know meat is just meat and “weaker” Christian legalists who want to create a rule. Scripture as a whole, the context of the Corinthian church, and Paul’s undeniable conclusion in 1 Cor 10:28 favor the “single Corinthian question” view and separate this essay from any legalism debate.

The Corinthians lived in a society where pagan rituals and social/economic functions were inseparable. From Paul’s opening salvo in 1 Cor 8:1-3, we can surmise that the Corinthians had asked, “Hey, since we’re strong Christians and we know that idols are nothing, can’t we keep attending our usual social functions and business meetings without rocking the boat?”

In short, the Corinthians wanted to use Christian liberty as an excuse to conform to their world. This is what drives Paul’s discussion of sacrifice, his treatment of his rights as an apostle, and running so as to win the prize in chapter 9. His answer to them is a clear “No.”

Pride vs Love

Paul begins by acknowledging the Corinthian’s knowledge as mature Christians. Then he turns that knowledge around on them and says it puffs them up and makes them prideful. Instead of flaunting knowledge, he asks them to act in sacrificial love, building others up and showing their love to God.

Why is Paul’s method and message in this opening important? He’s about to dive into a persuasive essay in which he acknowledges both sides, so to start things out, he wants no confusion as to the final answer. “Your knowledge is making you prideful. And guess what? You don’t know what you think you know (verse 2). God wants you to act in love, both toward Him and others. And isn’t being known by Him better than knowledge?”

Weak vs Strong

We need to understand what Paul intends when he refers to the Christian with the “weak conscience.” In this case, weak (asthenés) means unsound or “insufficient.” And conscience (syneídēsis) may be understood as a “spiritual moral compass.” 

The one with the insufficient/underdeveloped compass is not sniveling in fear of every rule. Paul is also not saying in this passage that the less developed conscience is more susceptible to sin. Rather, here he is warning that the less developed moral compass is susceptible to a poor alignment caused by the strong, prideful Christian.

The Christians boasting in their knowledge and eating food sacrificed to idols are (by example or word) setting the less developed moral compass of the newer Christian askew. This imperils that person’s relationship with Christ. What is Paul’s conclusion? “Don’t do it!”

Jumping to the Conclusion

Chapter 9 is the meat (no pun intended) of the essay, but is often misread because Paul seems to digress into a defense of his apostleship. In truth, he’s giving multiple examples to support his argument that the Corinthians should sacrifice their rights and knowledge in Christian liberty and discipline themselves instead (1 Cor 9:25-27) so as to build up newer Christians by not skewing their moral compasses. In chapter 10, he includes loving non-believers in this way.

The conclusion Paul reaches next in chapter 10 is inescapable. Don’t eat meat declared as having been sacrificed to idols, not out of legalism or for your own conscience, but out of love for those whose moral compass might be led astray by your actions. Do what is beneficial.

“Everything is permissible,” but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible,” but not everything builds up. No one is to seek his own good, but the good of the other person.” 1 Cor 10:23-24 (CSB)

Applications for the Writer

As I said before, attempting to substitute some worldly thing in our writing every time Paul says “food for idols” is an apples-to-oranges comparison or worse. For more on this topic, see my previous soap box article: Writer, Keep and Defend the Faith. 

So, what lessons should we writers glean from 1 Cor 8-10?

1. Do what is beneficial. 

Our job as both Christians is to love others and build them up. Are you loving your readers by putting foul language in their heads or glorifying the occult? Whatever you do, make sure you seek to do what is beneficial for others. Don’t risk skewing anyone’s spiritual-moral compass.

2. Run so as to win the prize. 

Loving others involves sacrifice. Trust me. I understand full well the temptation to conform to the world to advance a writing career. “But I can reach more people this way,” is a poor justification. Christ, through Paul, tells us to sacrifice our own freedom and desires for the sake of others. Whatever you write, keep that in mind.

Thus endeth today’s soap box rant. Thanks for listening. I hope this helps you in your discernment the next time someone says, “Food for idols.”

As a former stealth pilot, James R. Hannibal is no stranger to secrets and adventure. He has been shot at, locked up with surface to air missiles, and chased down a winding German road by an armed terrorist. He is a two-time Silver Falchion award-winner for his Section 13 mysteries for kids, a Thriller Award nominee for his Nick Baron covert ops series for adults, and a Selah Award finalist for his Christian CIA thriller, the Grypyhon Heist. James is a rare multi-sense synesthete. Want to know more? Visit JamesRHannibal.com.