How the ancient view of "guts" is a lively metaphor of promise
The King James renders our last three verses interestingly: “O ye Corinthians, our mouth
is open unto you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not straitened in us, but ye are straitened in your
own bowels. Now for a recompense in the same, (I speak as unto my children,) be ye also
enlarged.”
I am not sure why, but I’ve often heard people call my wife a saint. I mean, she’s a good
Christian and all, but people seem to say it a lot. Who knows, right? Anyway, I still remember the first time I learned about the Greek word in verse 12, σπλάγχνον (splanchnon), which also makes a great verb, σπλαγχνίζομαι (splanchnizomai). I was in seminary, which is a great place to learn weird stuff.
This word pops up in Luke in the parable of the Good Samaritan and of the Prodigal Son. It pops up in Mark with the feeding of the five thousand. Mark writes, “When [Jesus] went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things.” What’s the word mean? As a noun, it refers to our guts, our bowels. As a verb, it means our guts churn, our bowels stir. The ancients thought affections resided in the guts, the bowels, rather than the heart, although the heart sort of got lumped in with the guts. The guts drove people’s psychology, shaped their personality in its deepest sense. It makes sense if you think about it. We get butterflies. We get sick to our stomach. You get it.
Anyway, back to my wife. I remember after learning about this great new word, I came
home and told her she really stirred my bowels. She wasn’t impressed. She thought it neither
He loves, and real love is self-giving; it’s vulnerable
romantic nor funny. This wasn’t what you say on Valentine’s Day. The image in this verse really does paint a powerful picture, though. We have a God whose guts churn for us. We have a God whose innards are stirred by our condition. He doesn’t hold back. He loves, and real love is self-giving; it’s vulnerable. He doesn’t keep his guts from us. He doesn’t close himself off. His heart is wide open. And so, Paul strove to love the Corinthians like that, having been so loved himself. Paul was self-giving, vulnerable. He suffered much, even as he received little, because that’s what love does. But the Corinthians bowels were straightened, restricted. Their love was bound up, constipated. Something was wrong. How’s your gut? How straightened have you been in your bowels? No one has ever called me a saint. My love has admittedly been all too restricted, often because my guts haven’t been stirred by the gospel. This is why Luther called Christ our rhubarb, a Chinese treatment for a condition he knew all too well. Paul says to us, too, “O ye Corinthians, our mouth is open unto you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not straitened in us, but ye are straitened in your own bowels. Now for a recompense in the same, (I speak as unto my children,) be ye also enlarged.”
My love has admittedly been all too restricted, often because my guts haven’t been stirred by the gospel
At the beginning of Homer’s Iliad, the poet sings of Achilles and Agamemnon: “What
god drove them to fight with such a fury?” He means, what god inhabited their guts? Who stirred their inmost being? We know what God has inhabited your guts. He’s gotten hold of them, and he stirs them with his gospel. Love breeds love. Openness opens. And so, Christ enlarges your heart, bit by bit. He goes to work through days and months and years. He makes his home. He makes you free, unrestricted, because you are loved. So, I say to you, as St. Paul said to the Corinthians, “Be ye also enlarged.” And he’s not making a request. He’s saying what Christ does, because in Christ it’s always done.
