The Lutheran Hour
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"Rotten Tomatoes"
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Text: 1 Corinthians 1: 30-31
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Rotten tomatoes are the worst. I bit into one the other day. Not the rotten part. I cut that part out. But, I figured that the rest was salvageable, like cheese. You know, you just cut out the little bit with mold on it, the rest is good to go, right?
But not even minor surgery can save a rotten tomato. Maybe it has something to do with the juiciness, the rottenness spreads. Rottenness in one part diffuses to all the other parts, even the more presentable side. I’m speaking from firsthand experience here: even if the other half looks good, don’t let appearances fool you. The best you can do with a rotten tomato is throw it out, or if you’re an extra on a movie set, throw it at the nearest public speaker who offends you, because that’s about all rotten tomatoes are good for.
Unless … you change the context, say, from the kitchen counter to the compost bin. Rotten fruit—a tomato is botanically speaking, a fruit, remember. Although, I know, culinarily they’re regarded as a vegetable—however you slice it, rotten fruit, rotten vegetable, they’re all worthless in the kitchen. But in a compost bin, it’s a different story. Fruit rotting as compost, that’s just the beginning. See, a compost bin is a first-class example of the truth that sometimes things have to get worse before they get better, like a how a fractured bone that healed wrong has to be re-broken and re-set for it to heal right (it has to get worse before it gets better), or how a new manager has to ask uncomfortable questions and make unpopular decisions to shake up a toxic company culture (it has to get worse before it gets better), or how the first three-weeks of every new exercise regimen start with soreness, discouragement, and blisters. It has to get worse before it gets better.
But context matters, because soreness after exercise is different than soreness after injury. In some cases, things do have to get worse before they get better. But change the context, and something getting worse is just the sign of something going bad, like a tomato rotting on your kitchen counter. The context makes all the difference.
The same is true for human boasting, according to the Bible. One place this comes up in Scripture is in the first letter to the followers of Jesus living in the ancient Greek city of Corinth. Among the Christian house-churches there, boasting was spoiling their community, and not in a good way, not like grandparents “spoiling” the grandkids with ice cream, but like rotten tomatoes in spaghetti sauce.
Paul, the author of the letter to the Corinthians, addresses people tainted with boasting gone bad. See, Corinth was an ambitious Roman colony known for its “get-ahead” mentality. It was common there for people to revel in their social status, in their income, and influence. And the Christians in Corinth were bringing these attitudes into the local church community. And it was causing divisions, fights, factions. In the letter, Paul addresses this toxic culture head-on, sometimes sternly. His overall tone is loving. He wants to help them do better (see 1 Corinthians 4:14-21). But first, things have to get worse.
Imagine it with me. Imagine you’re part of one of those little house churches in Corinth. And this letter comes from Paul, the missionary who founded your community. It begins like this:
“Paul, called by the will of God to be an apostle, a messenger of Christ Jesus, along with our brother Sosthenes, to the church of God that is in Corinth, to those set apart in Christ Jesus, to those called to be God’s holy people, together with all those who in every place call upon the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours: Grace to you and peace from God, our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the anointed King.
I always thank my God for all of you, because of the grace of God that’s been given you in Christ Jesus, so that in every way you were enriched in Him, in all speech and knowledge, even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you, so that you are not lacking any gift as you wait for the public appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, free from accusation on the Day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord.
I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all be on the same side, that there be no factions, no divisions among you, but that you all have the same mindset, the same judgment. You see, it’s been reported to me by Chloe’s people, that there is fighting, squabbling among you, my brothers. What I mean is, each one of you says, ‘I follow Paul,’ or ‘I follow Apollos,’ or ‘I follow Cephas,’ or ‘I follow Christ.’ Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?
I thank God that I baptized none of you … except for Crispus and Gaius … so that none of you may say that you were baptized in my name—I did also baptize the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I don’t remember if I baptized anybody else—because Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the Gospel, and not with words of ‘eloquent wisdom,’ so that the cross of Christ would not be emptied of its power.
You see, the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are on their way to ruin. But to us, to us who are on the way to salvation, it is the power of God. As it is written, [God said], ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise. And the intelligence of the intelligent, I will frustrate’ (Isaiah 29:14). Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where’s the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through its ‘wisdom,’ it pleased God, by the foolishness of what we preach to save those who believe.
You see, Jews demand miraculous signs, and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to the Gentile nations, but to those who are called—both Jews and Gentiles—Christ, the power of God, Christ, the wisdom of God, for the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength.
Think about your own calling, brothers and sisters, not many of you were wise by the world’s standards, not many of you were influential, not many of you were born to high status. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even the things that are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, so that no human being may boast. No one may boast in the presence of God. It is from Him, it is because of God that you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, righteousness (a right relationship with God), holiness (closeness to God), redemption (belonging to God), so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord’” (1 Corinthians 1).
In ancient Greek culture, to boast in something was to glorify it, to delight in it, to revel in it. In Greek literature, for example, characters take pride and delight in what they believe are their best character traits. The war hero, Achilles, for example, boasts in his strength, his physical power. And the hero Odysseus, he boasts in his wisdom, in his cleverness.i Now there was the seed of something good in boasting, in taking delight, in glorifying whatever is true, excellent, and praiseworthy (see Philippians 4:8). Human beings do this naturally. We love to praise what is good—a great play, moving music, a breathtaking sunset. We boast in these things because we delight in them.
But all this can go wrong. Even the Greeks recognized that boasting, especially boasting about your own prowess, could be just a bunch of hot air.ii Boasting gone wrong—it’s the rotten fruit of rightful praise. It happens when we forget that everything we have is a gift, even the things we think we’ve earned and deserved. What do you have that you did not receive?” Paul asks the cliquish Corinthians. “And, if you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it [as a gift]?” “Let no one boast in humans,” Paul tells them (1 Corinthians 3:21.) And he includes himself in that.
Sometimes I wonder if Paul was making fun of himself, admitting that he couldn’t remember who, or how many, he had baptized, that it was just another way of him saying—“Look folks, I’m nothing to brag about.” No one is. And anything that is truly excellent about us is all a gift from God anyway.
When we boast in our talents like they were ours by right or possession, we’re like someone who revels in a gift but ignores the giver—doesn’t even write a note or send a text to say thanks. This is our rottenness. We want the gifts more than the God who gives them. And this rottenness (the Bible calls it “sin”) diffuses through our personalities and our relationships. I use my gifts. I get good results. Then I say, “Look at me. I’ve earned this. I deserve better.” And then I start to look down my nose at other people. I make comparisons. I mentally divide people—good people and bad people. People I like and people I don’t like, worthy and unworthy. You do the same. We become factions. And we presume the superiority of our group or race or class or culture … or church.
But the cross of Christ, the crucified Jesus, the focal point of the Christian faith, put all this boasting in its proper place—out with the compost. Paul summarized the good news of Jesus as “the word of the cross” or simply, “Christ crucified.” For people in a Roman colony like Corinth, a crucifixion could only be the rotten, dead-end of foolishness, weakness, and failure. But for some, the cross of Christ would become the beginning of something new and better. It’s not that the brutal, shameful, murder of an innocent man suddenly became good on its own. The crucifixion of God’s Son was as evil as sin itself, my sin and yours. The cross is the end-result of all human pride and boasting. The cross is death and separation from God and from each other. The cross is what we earned, what we deserve. But Jesus voluntarily shouldered it for us, because He loves us, because He wants to show us where boasting gets us. And He rose from the dead to offer a way out, a way for things to get better. The cross of Christ is where things got worse for us, so that we could be better. Because the resurrection of Jesus creates a new context.
Our rottenness, composted with God’s love becomes the garden where you can grow to confess, “I’m only here by grace.” Or, riffing on the words of Paul, who was riffing on the words of an old prophet: “If you really want to boast, boast in the Lord” (see Jeremiah 9:23-24).
If ever there was a guy growing in the grace of his rotten tomato dreams, it’s the creator of one of the most famous tomatoes in recent times, Bob the Tomato, from VeggieTales. The creator of VeggieTales, with a tomato named Bob and his sidekick, Larry the Cucumber, the creator is just a guy from Iowa, a Bible college drop-out named Phil Vischer.
Phil writes about it in his book, Me, Myself, and Bob: A True Story about Dreams, God, and Talking Vegetables. Phil explains how, more than anything else, he wanted to be the Christian version of Walt Disney. He wanted it so badly. He wanted to use his gifts to do big, impressive, impactful things for God. Not just to make and voice-act a few cartoon characters, but to build an entertainment empire, to compete against the secular media giants, complete with Phil’s own brand of movies, a recording label, and a theme park—what Disney World might have been like with God in it—if the attractions reveled in God, rather than fairy tales, early American history, and irrational optimism for the future.iii
Phil would do it—he would do it all for God! At least that’s what he told himself. And what’s crazy is, he almost did it—that is, until his engorged dream hit the podium like over-ripened fruit on a movie set. Total failure notwithstanding, it’s actually quite remarkable what he did. This midwestern Bible-college dropout, with just a handful of volunteers and underpaid co-workers, on a shoe-string budget, they created the first-ever half-hour computer-animated kids’ show, which became the best-selling Christian video series in history, and the number two kids’ video series in the world at the time, second only to Pokemon.iv
And it all started in Phil’s apartment. In less than a decade, Phil’s brainchild had gone from a handful of part-time workers and volunteers to a full-fledged, full-time staff of 315. In just four years, their sales skyrocketed over 3,000 percent.v Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato became household names. And Phil remembers feeling like they could do anything.vi He also remembers a little voice in his head saying, “You deserve this … Look at all the work you’ve done … Look at what you’ve built.”
It’s the same voice in your head and mine that advertisers conspire with, telling us why we should have that newer phone, or more stylish pair of shoes, more luxurious vacation—not because you need it, but because you deserve it. Phil says he’s since come to hate that voice in his head.vii But when the sales were off the charts and the good press was rolling in and his star was rising and he was doing it all for God, sometimes he thought he did deserve it. But that was when the fruit still looked presentable.
It was a combination of factors that put Phil’s big idea out of business, factors like biting off more than they could chew, trying to grow too fast, undisciplined financial practices, a lawsuit. But looking back, Phil knows who to blame. “I have seen the enemy,” he said, “and he is me.”viii
Shortly before he saw the signs of his dream decomposing, he got an email from a woman he’d never met. She congratulated him on all the impact he was having. But then she closed by advising him to keep an eye on his pride. “Well, that’s a little forward,” he thought, “considering we’ve never met.” She kept sending him emails, once a month, or every other month. “I’m glad things are going so well for you, but keep an eye on your pride.” Phil dismissed her as a well-meaning, but clearly uninformed fan. Just before they lost the lawsuit and had to liquidate the company, the final 13 employees of Phil’s big idea were gathered for a prayer meeting, pleading for God to save the dream.
Phil noticed that one woman wasn’t praying with the group, at least not out loud. After the meeting was over, she stayed in her seat, then cautiously approached him when the others had left. “I don’t think this is about God and the company,” she told him. “I think this is about God and Phil.”ix
Phil’s dream of becoming the Christian Walt Disney died in bankruptcy in 2003. But his story is not about rotting tomatoes. Nor is it a comeback in the shape of the American Dream. Phil found the shape of his story in a different context. In any other context, it would be just an embarrassing flop, followed by a well-deserved pelting with over-ripe fruit. But Phil, like all Christ-followers, is being shaped by the cross. The cross isn’t just an example. It’s the mold into which we are all being pressed. The cross is where our dreams and failures die. The cross is where our flops and accomplishments become compost. The cross is where God shows His steadfast love to the highest and lowest, to the best and the worst, sinners everyone, you included. And, surprisingly, God’s love plus our decomposed dreams makes fertile soil for Christian growth.
Shortly after Phil cleaned out his desk, he took a trip to Disneyland by himself, to make his peace with Walt. He remembers standing in the middle of the amusement park, near a statue of Walt Disney, reflecting on the last decade of his life. He thought about the kids who had come out in droves at bookstores for pictures with Bob and Larry. He thought about the testimonies of people who said they came to know Christ through talking vegetables. He thought about his co-workers who sacrificed so much for the dream, only to be laid off in the end.
Just then, Phil looks up and sees a woman with her teenage daughter, camera in hand, walking toward him with big smiles. “Uh oh,” he thought, “I’ve been spotted.” Fans would sometimes spot him in public and ask for a picture or an autograph, ever since Phil first put his face at the front of a VeggieTales video. Seeing the woman and her daughter, he quickly switched into “gracious fan reception mode” and smiled back. He was, after all, still the creator of VeggieTales.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, “would you take a picture of us? With the statue of Walt?” Phil almost choked. They weren’t there for him. They didn’t know him from Adam.
Happy to be of service, Phil obliged and snapped the picture.x Sure, he had failed to be the Christian Walt Disney. But decomposing dreams and all, he still belonged to Jesus. Turns out, that’s more than enough to boast about. In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
i Homer, The Iliad. Book 19.240-260. Translated by Robert Pagels. New York: Penguin (1990), 495.
ii Ibid., Book 17.20–30, 443.
iii Phil Visher, Me, Myself, and Bob: A True Story about God, Dreams, and Talking Vegetables. Nashville: Thomas Nelson (2006), 121.
iv Ibid., 147.
v Ibid., 158, 170, 204.
vi Ibid., 155.
vii Ibid., 215.
viii Ibid., 205.
ix Ibid., 229–230.
x Ibid., 257.Reflections for February 1, 2026
Title: Rotten TomatoesNo reflection segment this week.
Music Selections for this program:
“A Mighty Fortress” arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“Crucifer” by Sydney H. Nicholson, arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“Not Unto Us” by Kurt Eggert. From a recording by the Commission on Worship, The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. (Music and text © 1993 Ruth Eggert)
“No Saint on Earth Lives Life to Self Alone” arr. John Eggert. From Safe in God’s Faithfulness by the Concordia Seminary Chorus. (© 2007 Concordia Seminary Chorus) Used by permission.
“O Christ, Our True and Only Light” From The Concordia Organist (© 2009 Concordia Publishing House) Used by permission.