Corinth, an ancient port city, was a massive crucible where the rough Mediterranean surf and human desire surged without pause. Amid glittering temples, wealth and pleasure coursed through the streets. The church planted in that city may have been like a fragile ark adrift on stormy seas.
When the apostle Paul takes up his pen in 1 Corinthians—especially chapters 5 and 6—you can hear a breath too urgent to be contained by calm logic. This is not mere moral instruction. It is the desperate cry of a father watching a beloved child swallow poison.
Today, guided by the incisive theological insight of Pastor David Jang, we will step into that paradoxical scene from two thousand years ago—where grace was not absent, yet grace and sin strangely coexisted—and ask how Paul’s cry still pierces the modern church.
A Forest of Spectacular Gifts—and “The Picture of Dorian Gray” Hidden Inside
In Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, the protagonist preserves eternal youth and beauty. Outwardly, he appears flawless and captivating, but his greed and corruption are faithfully recorded in a portrait locked away in an attic—rotting into something grotesque.
Pastor David Jang diagnoses the Corinthian church in much the same way. On the surface, it looked like a “successful church”: overflowing with tongues and prophecy, rich in knowledge and passion. Yet behind the curtain of dazzling gifts, there was a coil of sexual immorality—an incestuous relationship so shameful that even the surrounding society would have found it scandalous.
Even more shocking was the church’s posture. What enraged Paul was not only the sin itself, but the pride of a community that could harbor such sin without mourning. Here Pastor David Jang delivers a message that cuts to the bone: the Corinthians flaunted their “spiritual freedom,” excusing and tolerating sin in the name of broad-mindedness. A church that boasts in gifts while losing holiness is no different from Dorian Gray smiling with a beautiful face while hiding a decaying portrait.
Though the city’s immoral air had crossed the church’s threshold and invaded the sanctuary itself, the congregation’s spiritual senses had grown numb—they could no longer smell the stench. It is, at the same time, a chilling warning to modern churches that enjoy abundance yet slowly lose the wild, uncompromising instinct for holiness.
A Tearful Table That Refuses Bread Mixed with Leaven
Scripture compares sin to leaven. Just a small amount works through an entire batch of dough, swelling it and altering its nature. In the same way, sin that is tolerated eventually corrupts the essence of the whole community.
Pastor David Jang draws from the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread in the Old Testament to remind believers that our identity is meant to be “unleavened.” Paul’s command to purge the old leaven is not moral fastidiousness or obsessive purity culture. It is more like emergency surgery to save a life.
Church discipline (purification) is not the same as a verdict handed down by a secular court. As Pastor David Jang interprets it, even behind the frightening phrase “to deliver such a one to Satan” lies a paradoxical love: that though the flesh may be destroyed, the spirit might be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus. This is not punishment for its own sake—it is rescue.
In the desperation of Israel’s failures—at Baal Peor, and in the wilderness where the dying had to look upon the bronze serpent—we glimpse a gospel pattern. The only antidote that can pull out the poisoned barb of counterfeit love is to face the real love of the cross.
This is also why Paul so sharply rebukes believers for hauling internal disputes before secular courts. Forgetting the church’s honored identity—those who will judge the world—and placing themselves under the world’s judgment is to drag the church’s glory into the dust. Pastor David Jang calls this an “identity crisis.” What meaning is there in winning a legal case if it costs the church its holiness?
Freedom Paid for in Blood—and the Weight of That Price
“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.” This declaration is the summit of 1 Corinthians 6 and the heart of Christian ethics.
In Corinth, a pleasure-driven slogan circulated: “Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food.” The body was treated as nothing more than a tool for satisfying appetite. But Pastor David Jang—following Paul’s argument—shatters this hollow dualism. Our bodies are members of Christ and temples of the Holy Spirit.
Modern society shouts, “My body is mine,” insisting every pleasure is a right. With a single tap on a smartphone we can access pornography; behind anonymity we can discharge desire without restraint. In this digital Corinth, it is easy to lose our way.
Right here, Pastor David Jang’s meditation presses a heavy question into our hands: To whom are your hands and feet united today? To what are your eyes and ears joined? Just as the one who unites with a prostitute becomes “one body,” the one who unites with the Lord becomes “one spirit.”
Freedom is not the same as indulgence. As Scripture says, “All things are lawful, but not all things are helpful.” True freedom is the ability to limit oneself—to refuse slavery to impulse. Because our bodies were purchased at the staggering cost of Christ’s blood, we can no longer live as servants of desire.
Ultimately, the message Pastor David Jang draws from 1 Corinthians is a message of restoration: rebuilding broken walls, purging leaven, and breaking the bread of sincerity and truth. A community that is distinct from the world without hating the world; that hates sin while refusing to abandon sinners; that practices the cruciform love that holds together holiness and mercy.
Today, what fragrance rises from the sanctuary of your life?