A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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This chapter right here, it’s one that kinda hits deep when you stop and think about it. It’s not just about “spiritual gifts” like many people say — it’s about belonging. About realizing we’re not lone stars in God’s sky but parts of one big, crazy, beautiful body that’s called the church.
You can almost feel Paul’s heart when he writes this one. Like he’s tired but hopeful. The Corinthian church was gifted — really gifted. But they had ego problems. They fought over who was more spiritual, who spoke in tongues better, who was wiser. The church was bursting with talent but bleeding from pride.
So Paul writes this long, gentle correction — part teaching, part pleading.
He starts: “Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I would not have you ignorant.”
Meaning, don’t be clueless about this stuff. You can’t just chase experiences without understanding what they’re for.
The Corinthians were used to the dramatic stuff — ecstatic tongues, prophecies, miracles. But Paul’s like, “Wait. Let’s slow down.” He doesn’t crush their enthusiasm, but he redirects it.
Sometimes God has to do that with us too. We get so excited about doing for Him that we forget being with Him.
Paul says, remember your past — you followed mute idols once. Lifeless things that never answered your prayers.
He says the real test of the Spirit isn’t noise or excitement — it’s confession.
If it glorifies Jesus, that’s the Spirit. If it glorifies you, it’s something else.
So simple, but so often missed.
He says, “No one speaking by the Spirit of God says ‘Jesus be cursed,’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”
That’s not just words. That’s loyalty. It’s life-change.
If the Spirit is truly at work, He’ll make you love Jesus, not use Him.
Then Paul goes poetic — I love these verses.
Different gifts, same Spirit.
Different ministries, same Lord.
Different operations, same God working through all.
He’s basically saying: unity doesn’t mean uniformity.
We’re not supposed to be clones.
Imagine if every believer looked and acted the same — boring.
God’s creativity shows in how He gifts His people.
One preaches with fire, another comforts quietly.
One writes, another serves. One sings in public, another sings to God in the kitchen.
All of them needed.
The Spirit is like electricity — same power source, different bulbs shining in their own color.
Paul says it straight: “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”
That’s key. The gift ain’t yours for showing off. It’s for serving others.
Sometimes I think about that when I see people online “performing” faith.
We’re all guilty in some way. But spiritual gifts were never meant for spotlight.
They’re meant for building others up — to heal, to comfort, to teach, to love.
If your gift makes people feel small, maybe you’re using it wrong.
Paul lists a whole bunch of gifts here — wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discerning spirits, tongues, interpretation of tongues.
They sound flashy, but notice: they’re all functional.
They’re tools, not trophies.
You might never heal the sick physically, but your presence could heal someone emotionally.
You might not prophesy from a pulpit, but you might speak truth into a friend’s despair.
The Spirit gives as He chooses — not by our résumé, not by our demand.
“All these worketh that one and the selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man severally as He will.”
He decides. Not us.
You can pray for gifts, but you can’t control which one you get.
And it’s good that way — imagine if everyone wanted the same thing.
We’d all talk, no one would listen.
We’d all lead, no one would follow.
We’d all sing, and no one would play instruments.
God’s wisdom arranges it perfectly, even if we don’t see it.
Now Paul goes into the famous metaphor — the church as a body.
It’s such a simple picture but so powerful.
A body has many parts, but it’s still one body.
The foot isn’t jealous of the hand. The eye doesn’t compete with the ear.
We all have different purposes but the same identity — Christ’s body.
He says we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body — Jews, Gentiles, slaves, free — all made to drink from one Spirit.
That’s unity beyond culture, beyond class, beyond background.
That’s the kind of family the world can’t understand.
Paul gets a bit humorous here — the foot saying, “I’m not a hand, so I don’t belong.”
Or the ear saying, “I’m not an eye, so I’m useless.”
You can almost imagine him smiling as he writes.
Because that’s exactly how humans think.
“I’m not good enough.”
“I don’t have a big ministry.”
“I’m not a preacher.”
But God’s like — “Hey, I made you a foot for a reason.”
Every part matters.
Every gift matters.
Without you, something’s missing.
The body doesn’t work right when one part refuses to move.
Paul flips it the other way now — says the eye can’t say to the hand, “I don’t need you.”
The head can’t say to the feet, “You’re unnecessary.”
We like to think we’re self-sufficient.
But truth is, we’re built to depend on one another.
He says the parts that seem weaker are actually more necessary.
And the parts we cover up — they’re given special honor.
It’s a strange but beautiful truth — God honors what people hide.
The unseen obedience, the quiet prayers, the tears no one watches — all holy.
He says if one part suffers, the whole body suffers; if one part is honored, everyone rejoices.
That’s how family works.
That’s how the church should be — feel each other’s pain, celebrate each other’s joy.
Imagine if we really did that.
Paul wraps it up:
“Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.”
Then he lists some callings — apostles, prophets, teachers, miracle workers, healers, helpers, administrators, speakers of tongues.
It’s like he’s saying: look, not everyone’s the same. Not supposed to be.
Stop comparing, stop competing.
Then those questions —
Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles?
Of course not.
So instead of trying to be everything, be what God made you to be.
And then — a hint of what’s next —
“Yet desire the greater gifts.”
And the next chapter tells us what that “greater gift” really is: love.
When you step back from the theology and read this like a letter to people — you can feel the tenderness.
Paul isn’t scolding; he’s guiding.
He’s saying, stop letting gifts divide you.
Stop measuring worth by what you can do.
Remember who you are — one body, under one Spirit.
It’s so easy to forget that in modern churches.
We chase platforms, not purpose.
We compare numbers instead of hearts.
But God never asked for performance — He asked for participation.
He doesn’t just use the strong. He uses the willing.
So what do we do with all this?
First — be grateful for your gift.
Don’t envy someone else’s.
The Spirit knew what He was doing when He gave you yours.
Second — honor others’ gifts.
Even if they look different from yours, even if they’re quiet.
The hand can’t work well if it keeps slapping the foot.
Third — remember it’s all for the common good.
Every sermon, every act of kindness, every whispered prayer — it’s all supposed to build someone else up.
If your gift isn’t blessing others, it’s not being used right.
Fourth — don’t hide.
Some people bury their gifts because they think it’s too small or unimportant.
But small things done with love — they echo in heaven.
And lastly — love above all.
Because the gift of love holds everything together.
This chapter always leaves me thinking about how messy and beautiful the church really is.
Different faces, different stories, different wounds — yet one Spirit binding us all together.
We’re like a patchwork quilt. Some patches bright, some torn, some plain. But stitched by grace into something that actually holds.
The Spirit doesn’t make us the same — He makes us united.
He doesn’t erase our differences — He harmonizes them.
So next time you see someone in the church doing something you wish you could do — instead of envy, whisper a little “thank You, Lord.”
Because that’s your brother, your sister, your teammate.
And maybe you’ll see — the body of Christ isn’t just a metaphor.
It’s us.
Messy, gifted, loved, and alive.
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