But see lest anywise this your right [to eat] itself be a stumbling-block to the weak.
The question at Corinth was whether a Christian could eat meat that had first been offered to an idol. Paul has already granted the knowledge that settles it: an idol is nothing. Now he puts a guard on that freedom, because someone else is watching.
Some at Corinth pressed a claim, and the word Paul picks up is theirs.
The next question was about eating things offered to idols. It seems to have been raised by the conduct of those who pleaded their liberty or right (exousia) in such a matter. The apostle examined this plea and dealt with it. In doing so he raised a point they had clearly overlooked. He fully admitted that the idol is nothing (v. 4), yet knowledge in such matters is not everything; for knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.
Paul does not withdraw the liberty. He asks how we carry it.
The liberty of God's children is absolute, but they are expected to use it as imitators of God. We have to consider not ourselves only, but both our brothers and the world. A believer may be walking without care and yet with an untroubled conscience. But this is dangerous. We must take care. While we enjoy our liberty — in one sense blamelessly — we can become a stumbling block to others without knowing it. A showy use of liberty rarely fails to injure both the boaster and those who watch his ways. True grace, because it is free and knows its happiness in fellowship with God, makes no effort to seem free. Instead it will seek to use its liberty in love. It considers the weak. It neither despises them nor tempts them by a bad example to act in anything beyond their faith.
Weakness here is not moral failure. It is a conscience that cannot yet act on what the mind knows.
There will always be many believers who cannot see such matters in the calm, level light of pure knowledge. They do not rise above their feelings and other personal impressions. Once they knew the meat had been offered that way, they could not get away from the feelings it stirred. They had "conscience of the idol" and it troubled them constantly. Their conscience was weak, because it lacked the clear and happy knowledge Paul enjoyed. Being weak, it was defiled.
The danger is imitation. A weaker believer copies the act without sharing the conviction behind it. This reaches far beyond the question of meat.
Suppose someone had liberty to eat meat offered to idols, with no scruples of conscience. He must still be careful not to stumble those whose conscience is weak. True knowledge is considerate, not overbearing... This principle applies to all kinds of situations we may be in today. A weak Christian may see another go somewhere his own conscience forbids. Because the stronger Christian went, he goes too. The stronger has therefore encouraged the other to ignore his conscience. God would not let any believer perish. But my heartless treatment of him is, in effect, showing no concern about whether he perishes. And Christ died for him!
Paul goes on to warn that the weak brother may be destroyed. One writer explains what is lost, and what is not.
The perishing has nothing to do with the salvation of the soul. It means instead that a wounded conscience would put the weak brother out of action. It would destroy him as to his spiritual state, and so as to his testimony and service. No believer who falls under a cloud through a defiled conscience is of any use in the wars of the Lord.
Yet the safety of the sheep should not soften the warning.
It is of the greatest importance to let Scripture have its full effect on the soul. We must not blunt its edge with the dogmas of systematic theology... The same authority that says "My sheep shall never perish" also warns us. We must not cause a weak brother to perish by a self-indulgent, unloving use of our liberty. It will be our wisdom, and certainly our moral safety, to listen to the one as well as to the other.
Waiving a liberty is not giving it up. You can still hold it before God.
"Are we then never to use our undoubted liberty?" Yes, says the apostle. If you have faith to use it, keep it to yourself before God. Use it in private, not in public, when using it might stumble a weak brother.
- Knowledge — the Corinthians were right about the idol. But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. Being right was never the whole question.
- Right — the word Paul takes up is exousia, a liberty or right. He never denies it; he places a guard on it.
- Love — true grace makes no effort to seem free. It uses liberty with the weak in mind, and never pushes them past their faith.
- Restraint — a weak conscience copies the example without the conviction. A Christian under that cloud is no use for service — and Christ died for him.
- Result — hold the liberty before God in private, not in public. Do not blunt the warning by telling yourself the sheep are safe anyway.
For if any one see thee, who hast knowledge, sitting at table in an idol-house, shall not his conscience, he being weak, be emboldened to eat the things sacrificed to the idol?
Paul pictures a Christian who is sure that an idol is nothing. This man sits down to a meal inside the idol's own temple, and another believer watches him. The question of the verse is not what the food does to the eater, but what the sight does to the watcher.
The verse sets two Christians side by side. They are not in the same place. One feels at ease, because he has worked out what an idol really is. The other still feels the pull of what he has left behind.
Two Christians are in view here. One has a faith so sound that he feels at ease even in an idol's temple, because he knows the idol is no god at all. The other hates idolatry, but still believes in idols. The thoughtless freedom of the first pours a false boldness into the spirit of the second. It rushes him into an act which, in his case, is not done to God. So the act is not of faith, and is therefore sin. Such examples only build up what the truth must afterwards pull down.
The strong man's example builds something in the weak believer. But it builds him the wrong way.
What if the weak one copied it with a conscience that was not free? What if he was emboldened, or built up the wrong way, and the brother for whom Christ died perished? Scripture describes an act by where it tends. It does not soften the act by the resources of grace that step in to stop the outcome.
So what is the ruin Paul warns about? One writer says the man does not lose his soul. He loses his usefulness.
The perishing has nothing to do with the salvation of the soul. It means instead that a wounded conscience puts the weak brother out of action. It destroys him as to his spiritual state, and so as to his testimony and service. No believer who falls under a cloud through a defiled conscience is of any use in the wars of the Lord.
Another writer warns us not to let doctrine dull the warning.
It is of the greatest importance to let Scripture have its full play on the soul. We must not blunt its edge with the dogmas of systematic theology. The same authority that says "My sheep will never perish" also warns us against causing a weak brother to perish. That happens through a self-indulgent, unloving use of our liberty. It will be our wisdom, and certainly our moral safety, to listen to the one as well as to the other.
Care for a weaker believer is the argument here. But that is not the only thing wrong with the picture.
Some of the Corinthians knew that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is no God but one. Yet they thought that because they saw this, they might sit and eat in an idol's temple. In this they were wrong... But more than that, they had no business being there at all. The question of being there at all was settled for good by their place at the Lord's table, and their sharing in the Lord's Supper. Granted, the idol was nothing. Yet behind it were demons. By sitting and eating at the idol's festival they would be in fellowship with demons.
The setting is ancient, but the pattern is not. Someone watches what you allow yourself, and copies it without your reasons.
Suppose the one who had knowledge sat and ate in the idol's temple. This might embolden others to do the same thing, at a moment when their own conscience spoke against it. We can apply this principle to all sorts of situations we find ourselves in today. A weak Christian may see another go to a place his own conscience forbids. But because the stronger Christian has gone, he goes too. The stronger has therefore encouraged the other to ignore his conscience.
- Sight — The verse turns on what people see. Your liberty is never private. Someone reads it as permission.
- Boldness — The watcher gains nerve, not knowledge. Your example builds him the wrong way, and he acts on your certainty instead of his own.
- Conscience — He then does what his own conscience forbids, so the act is not of faith, and it defiles him.
- Ruin — Scripture names an act by where it leads. Here it leaves a brother Christ died for out of action, wounded in testimony and service.
- Love — Knowledge alone produced this scene; only love asks what a sight will do to the one who sees it.
and the weak [one], the brother for whose sake Christ died, will perish through thy knowledge.
Paul is dealing with a practical question in Corinth: may a Christian eat meat that had been offered to an idol? Some said yes, because they knew an idol is nothing. This verse is Paul's warning about what that knowledge can cost someone else.
The danger was not the meat but the example. A believer with clear understanding could sit down to eat in the idol's temple. A weaker believer could watch him and copy the act, with no conviction of his own.
Suppose a man without this knowledge saw a man who had it sitting at a table in an idol's temple. Might that not encourage him to eat things sacrificed to an idol, even though his own conscience was not clear about it? He would only be copying another man's faith, and copied faith is not faith.
The ESV says this weak believer "is destroyed." Older translations read "perish," and the writers here use that older word. The word is strong either way. Commentators take it as the direction my act pushes my brother, not a verdict already fixed on him.
In verse 11, "shall the weak brother perish?" shows where my eating tends, as far as I can take it. I am leading him to sin against his conscience. It is not that the Lord will not step in and save him, but that is what I am doing... though I do not believe from other texts that God will leave him there, yet I am making my brother perish.
Other writers measure the ruin by lost usefulness. The believer is not lost, but he is finished as a witness.
The perishing has nothing to do with the salvation of the soul. It means that a wound to his weak conscience puts the weak brother out of action. It destroys his spiritual state, and so his testimony and service too. No believer who falls under a cloud, owing to a defiled conscience, is of any use in the wars of the Lord.
The verse speaks from the side of human responsibility. It does not reopen Christ's promise about His sheep.
This does not raise the question of whether a believer can perish, because the Lord Himself says, "they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand." One passage looks at the believer from the Lord's side; the other looks from man's side. We may fail in our responsibility, and do something that, as far as we are concerned, would cause our brother to perish.
That safeguard does not reduce my guilt.
1 Corinthians 8 teaches us the high value God sets on conscience. So those who force the conscience of a brother are guilty of a crime. If I cannot give up what offends the weaker conscience of another, then as far as I am concerned I am working for his destruction. The Lord will preserve him. He will make good His Word toward him. But if it depended on me — as far as my influence goes — my will would even land my brother in the fire of hell. In that sense I "destroy" him. God charges me with this sin. In His faithfulness He still guards the weak brother from the effect of my unfaithfulness.
One writer puts the division of labour in a single sentence:
We are our brother's keepers, not their Savior. Well has it been said, "out of our careless hands they fall for safety into His."
Paul does not describe the weak believer by his weakness. He describes him by what he cost.
Some of us might feel inclined to say, "Oh, but he is only a weak brother, of very little account as a servant or soldier of the Lord." If we spoke like that, we would forget that he is one of those "for whom Christ died." That makes him of immense value to Him. This is the true light in which to view our brother. So dear is he that to sin against him is to sin against Christ.
Knowledge is the instrument of the damage here.
Human nature has a great thirst for knowledge. But if I chase knowledge just to gain knowledge, it will only puff me up. Love, on the other hand, builds up my brother. And we only know in part, so trusting our partial knowledge to settle questions will often lead us badly astray.
- Knowledge acts. Being right about idols is not the issue. The issue is what my liberty does when a weaker believer copies it without faith of his own.
- Knowledge wounds. Leading him against his own conscience defiles it. A believer under that cloud is no use in testimony or service.
- Knowledge is charged. God preserves the weak brother, but He still charges the sin to me. His faithfulness shields my brother from my unfaithfulness.
- Knowledge is measured by the cross. He is not "only a weak brother"; he is one for whom Christ died, so wounding him is sin against Christ.
- Knowledge must yield to love. Knowledge puffs up and knows only in part. Love builds the brother up, and gives up a right rather than trip him.
Now, thus sinning against the brethren, and wounding their weak conscience, ye sin against Christ.
Paul has been discussing meat offered to idols — a small matter in itself. Here he shows where a careless act against another believer's conscience really lands.
The chapter opens by setting knowledge beside love.
First, he says, "We all have knowledge", in measure at any rate. Knowledge, however, is not enough; we need love as well. Human nature has a great thirst for knowledge. But if I chase knowledge just to have knowledge, it will only puff me up, while love will build up my brother. We also know only in part. So trusting our partial knowledge to settle questions will often lead us badly astray.
The word "thus" points back to something the strong Corinthians thought too small to argue about. One writer measures the gap between how the two sides saw the same plate of food.
Now this "sin against Christ" was all about a "trivial matter": whether a Christian should eat meat that had been offered to idols. Some saw that the meat was no worse for being offered that way, and that eating it made them neither better nor worse. To them it truly seemed a trifling thing. But to the weak ones, eating such food seemed a very serious matter — a most heinous sin. The apostle's counsel here is of extreme importance. The strong were to look at the matter, not from their own standpoint, but from that of the weak. What is so trifling in itself becomes of the utmost importance because of the weak brothers.
The previous verse warns that the weak brother may perish. One writer shows how that happens, and what the word does not mean.
Some of the Corinthians, strong in their knowledge that idols are nothing, went as far as sitting at the meat inside the idol's temple. Some of the weaker ones might be tempted to copy them, wanting a larger liberty, and then become stricken by an accusing conscience, and perish. The perishing has nothing to do with the salvation of the soul. It means instead that a wounded conscience puts the weak brother out of action. It destroys him as to his spiritual state, and so as to his testimony and service. No believer who falls under a cloud, owing to a defiled conscience, is of any use in the wars of the Lord.
It is easy to treat an over-careful believer as unimportant. The verse before answers that with four words: for whom Christ died.
Some of us might feel inclined to say, "Oh, but he is after all only a weak brother, and so of very little account as a servant or soldier of the Lord." If we speak like that, we are guilty of forgetting that he is one of those "for whom Christ died," and therefore of immeasurable value to Him. This is the true light in which to view our brother. So dear is he that to sin against him is to sin against Christ.
The verse does not stop at the brother. One writer explains why, and points to how Paul first learned it.
The real nature of all such inconsiderate acts is here touchingly, as well as solemnly, declared. To wound a Christian conscience is to offend the Lord. Because we forget that we are members of one another, we sin against Christ whenever we wrong our brothers. He is in His people, and what is done to them is done to Him. Paul knew this well. It was the very edge of that sharp sword from Jesus' mouth that had split his own self-righteous heart in two.
If harm done to a believer reaches Christ, so does help. That turns the warning into a test of what real love for Him looks like.
The Apostle never forgot those words, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?" And we must never forget them. The truth held in them meets us in many scriptures. Those who would strike a blow at Christ today, strike at His saints. Those who would serve Christ today, care for and serve His saints. Whatever is done to even the least of His brothers, He will accept as done to Himself. God grant that we may not forget this. Serving His cause and His people shows real devotion to Christ far better than pouring out warm, loving words to Him or about Him.
- Knowledge starts it. Knowledge held on its own inflates the one who has it; love is what builds up the other person.
- The trifle wounds. The issue was food — trivial to the strong, a grave sin to the weak. Measure the matter by the other man's conscience, not by yours.
- The wound ruins. "Perish" here is not the loss of salvation. It means a believer put out of action — no use in service or testimony, because his conscience is defiled.
- The ruined man is priceless. He is one "for whom Christ died" — the true measure of a weak brother's worth.
- The blow lands on Christ. Christ is in His people; what is done to them is done to Him. So serving His people, more than warm words about Him, is the real proof of devotion.
Wherefore if meat be a fall-trap to my brother, I will eat no flesh for ever, that I may not be a fall-trap to my brother.
Paul ends the talk about food offered to idols with a personal promise, not a rule for others. It raises two questions. Why give up meat for good? And does his choice bind everyone else?
Paul had every right to eat what he liked. One writer shows what held him back:
The fervency of this personal declaration is due to the sentiment expressed in the previous verse. He thinks of Christ, and of the possibility of wounding Him in one of His weak members, and from such a thought his soul instinctively recoils. Everything was indeed lawful for him. If anyone could push his God-given freedom to its furthest limit, he could. A teacher of liberty may surely live out his own teaching. But he walks by another rule.
He defends liberty for others, and lays down his own:
For the glory of God and of Christ, he claims full liberty for everyone the Son of God has set free. But his own steps in this world are guided by tender, watchful care for the good of his brothers in the faith, not by proud delight in his own privileges. To bring them up to his own happy level, he is willing to descend, and, if need be, to remain with the weakest on the lowest ground. He has everything in Christ. So by His grace and in His name he can overcome the desires of his old nature. And for His sake, following His example, he can also say no to desires that carry no blame at all.
This is not only about meat. One writer applies the same test to any question of this kind:
The Apostle first shows that knowledge alone cannot answer this important question, though love settles it very quickly. This matters greatly. He applies the principle here to eating things sacrificed to idols, but it has a wide application. In our day, and in this country, we would not face the question of eating meats offered to idols. Yet many other questions may arise — for instance, whether a Christian should smoke. Some would settle such a question by knowledge, which thinks only of the harm it may do to the body. The better way is love, which asks, "What effect will it have upon my brother?" Knowledge occupies me with the thing in question — its merits or demerits — but love thinks of my brother.
The older wording "while the world stands" renders a Greek phrase usually translated "forever," and one writer explains what stretch of time Paul actually means:
"So also Paul says, 'I will eat no flesh while the world stands,' literally 'to the age,' elsewhere translated 'forever.' The aion there is the period of his own life, and, if the saying were to be rendered idiomatically, it should have been translated, 'as long as I live.'"
Self does the opposite: it bends on truth and hardens toward people. One writer answers with a motto:
Self stubbornly refuses to adjust to the tender consciences and weaknesses of others. It will not give way to them by a hair's breadth, yet it will surrender any amount of truth to keep fellowship with people just like itself. We could head this whole section: "Any length in self-denial; not an inch in surrendering truth." This should always be the Christian's motto. If it is only a question of self, surrender all; if it is a question of truth, surrender nothing.
The test covers even the smallest freedoms:
No Christian has the "liberty" to act without considering his brothers and sisters — even in such trivial matters as food. If the love of Christ filled our hearts we would rather starve than indulge in any pleasure that stumbles a weak brother.
The pledge is Paul's own choice. It gives no one power over another Christian's diet:
The apostle then takes the firm stand that if his eating meat would cause his brother to stumble, he would completely refrain from it. It is completely different if someone demands that Paul must not eat meat because of that person's conscience. He would not give in to a demand like that. But a genuinely weak conscience must be considered. How good if one can willingly give up his own liberty for the sake of others! This is a proper use of knowledge.
- Knowledge asks about the thing. Is the meat itself harmful? Knowledge can answer that, and it stops there.
- Love asks about the brother. The one test Paul applies is the effect of his action on someone else — and the principle reaches far past food.
- The cost is real. He gives up something completely lawful, and gives it up for good.
- The limit is truth. Any length in self-denial; not an inch in surrendering truth. Give up everything where only self is at stake. Give up nothing where truth is at stake.
- The choice stays free. Paul volunteers this; he refuses to have it demanded of him. Giving up liberty in love is the proper use of knowledge, not a new law.