The Lutheran Hour
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"Meeting You Where You Are"
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Text: 1 Corinthians 9:19-23
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A few years ago, I had arrived at my church office in the morning with a made-up mind to be focused and productive. As I had just gotten settled into my office and ready to go to work, I heard a knock at the door.
As I looked through the glass window in the entryway of the church, I saw a middle-aged woman. I hesitantly began to open the door, because the schedule I had already made up in my mind didn’t include unexpected drop-in visits. I reluctantly welcomed her in, and we exchanged a few words. She informed me that she was needing food from the food pantry. Unfortunately, she had come on the wrong day. Our pantry workers were not there, and I had no access.
The conversation could have ended with me directing her to come back tomorrow, but despite my agenda I felt the Lord calling me to invite her to sit down. So I did. I asked her if there was anything else I could do for her. She looked at me, breathed deeply, hung her head down and said, “I’m sick.” She told me that she had contracted HIV years ago and was noticeably struggling to deal with it. It was at this moment that I took her hands, held them tightly and said, “We are all sick, just in different ways.” And I told her that God was able to walk us through any sickness. We talked for a while longer as she very vulnerably shared her story with me. Then we prayed together, again holding hands. I gave her a hug and told her if she ever needed me or the church, we were here to support her.
I thought about this encounter the rest of the day and for days to come. I realized that it wasn’t food that she needed that day, but she needed love and compassion and care and a loving embrace in a world in which she was made to feel ashamed and unlovable and untouchable.
That was it. No judgment, no condemnation, no advice, no fixing. Just recognition. Just meeting someone where they were. Then saying, “I’m here and the Lord is here.”
Although I never saw that woman again, she left a lasting impression on my life. I remember thinking: that’s how much of life actually works. Real connection rarely fits into our set agenda or schedule. It just happens. It happens by opening the door for an unexpected visitation that turns into sincere and open conversation. It starts with presence. With attention. With someone saying, “I see you. I get it. I’m here.”
And if you’re listening today—especially if faith feels unfamiliar, or complicated, or maybe even a little suspect—you might be wondering whether Christianity knows how to do that anymore. Whether it can meet you where you are, or whether it always demands that you be somewhere or someone else first.
That question—can faith meet me where I am?—is actually what today’s Scripture is about. The apostle Paul writes these words in his First Letter to the Corinthians:
“Though I am free I belong to no one. I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the Law I became like one under the Law (though I myself am not under the Law), so as to win those under the Law. To those not having the Law I became like one not having the Law (though I am not free from God’s Law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the Law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the Gospel, that I may share in its blessings.”
That phrase—“I have become all things to all people”—has sometimes been misunderstood. It can sound like manipulation. Like Paul is saying, “I’ll say whatever people want to hear if it gets results.” But that’s not what he means. And it’s not how Christianity works. Paul is not talking about changing the truth … that is, his values, his doctrinal beliefs. He’s talking about changing his posture, his approach.
Let’s think about this a minute, especially those listening who don’t consider themselves religious or believers. Christianity is not about pretending doubts don’t exist. It’s not about checking your intellect at the door. It’s not about moral superiority or being part of an elite club or status. And despite how it’s sometimes portrayed, Christianity is not about forcing beliefs or winning arguments.
At its heart, Christianity is about God moving toward people, not people running toward God. The Lord makes the first move through the power of the Holy Spirit. Paul’s words only make sense because of something much bigger—something that sits at the very center of the Christian faith. Christians believe that God Himself did exactly what Paul declares. God became what we are, to meet us where we are.
Decades before Paul ever wrote these words, God had already lived them. Christians believe that in Jesus God did not shout instructions from a distant, far-off cosmic realm. He entered into human life. Fully. Honestly. Vulnerably. Jesus didn’t come as a superhero warrior who didn’t feel pain or emotions. He didn’t come as a moral enforcer who did not know what it means to be tempted or struggle. He came as a baby, born in poverty, into a chaotic and hostile world, into a family that would know fear, flight, and loss. He ate with people others avoided. He touched those considered untouchable. He listened before He directed to change. He wept with friends and loved ones.
If you’ve ever felt that religion talks at you instead of with you, it’s worth knowing this: Jesus consistently met people where they were, not where they should have been. In fact, there are countless stories of Jesus meeting people where they were. You might know some. There was a woman caught in adultery who Jesus saves and tells an angry mob, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” And no one did. No one threw any stones at her. They all walked away. And even more relevant to this message, there was Paul, the same Paul who wrote the text for this message. God met him on the road to Damascus. You see, Paul believed that his purpose in life was to persecute Christians, but Jesus met him on that Damascus road and talked with him and turned his whole life around. It’s how the Lord works. It’s His strategy, if you will. His M.O.
In the church, we have a name for it. That’s the Gospel, the Good News, when God calls us out of sin and shows His grace and His mercy through Christ Jesus and gives us new life. I’m reminded that the Word of God says, “If anyone be in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come.”
Friends, I want you to notice something. Paul says, “Though I am free … I have made myself a servant to everyone.” In other words, Paul isn’t forced but now called by the Lord Jesus. He isn’t coerced. He chooses this way of being. Christian freedom, as Paul understands it, is not the freedom to do whatever you want. It’s the freedom to love without fear. That is, to be as God is to us.
Paul adapts—not because he lacks conviction—but because he has confidence in the Gospel. He knows that the message doesn’t depend on his personality or background. So, he listens. He learns. He pays attention. And that’s exactly what I had to do when I opened the door for that woman on that day.
To religious people, he speaks religious language. To unbelievers who know nothing of Christ, he starts with everyday life. To the wounded, he doesn’t rush healing. To the skeptical, he doesn’t demand instant faith without any doubts. He becomes weak with the weak. Not condescendingly. Not strategically showing up with an agenda, but compassionately.
If you’re listening today and you’re unsure what you believe—or if you believe at all—hear this clearly: Christian faith does not begin with certainty. It begins with honesty. The Bible is filled with people who question, resist, doubt, argue, and wrestle. Faith is not the absence of questions—it’s bringing those questions into a relationship with Christ Jesus and becoming vulnerable before Him. Paul’s approach assumes something important: people are not projects to fix or improve upon. They are persons. And that includes you.
In my view, there can be a lot of confusion about this text and its interpretation. So I want to clear some things up as to what “being all things to all people” does not mean. In short, what is Paul not saying. He’s not saying that truth is relative. He’s not saying that belief does not matter. He’s not saying that Christianity can be endlessly reshaped to fit personal preference or just proclaim to you what you want to hear to soothe your conscience or your soul.
The Gospel remains the Gospel: that God loves the world, all of the world. That humanity is broken in ways that we cannot fix ourselves. That Jesus Christ lived, suffered, and died on a wooden cross in between two criminals on a hill called Calvary and rose again to reconcile us to God—not by our effort, but by grace. That by our faith in Jesus Christ alone, we are saved and will inherit eternal life in heaven. What changes is not the message—but the way it is shared. Paul doesn’t sugarcoat the Gospel. He translates it into a way that the world can understand and hear it.
We live in a world deeply hungry for meaning, and deeply suspicious of institutions like churches. Many people—perhaps you included—aren’t rejecting Christianity because they’ve studied it carefully and found it to be false. They’re rejecting distorted messages of presentations of who Jesus is. They’re reacting to loud voices, political entanglements, and experiences where faith felt weaponized rather than life-giving.
Paul’s words in First Corinthians challenge all believers in Jesus to ask ourselves, “Are we listening before we speak, in order that we might become what we need to be to the world today?” Are we curious before corrective? Are we present before trying to persuade?
Because the Gospel is not fragile; it’s powerful, life changing. It advances through love. Paul says, “To the weak I became weak.” That sentence only makes sense in light of the cross. Christians believe that God’s greatest act of strength looked like weakness. That salvation came, not through domination, but through selfless sacrifice. That the cross—an instrument of shame—became the place of hope.
If you’ve ever felt weak, uncertain, tired, broken, confused, or lost, you are not disqualified from faith. You are precisely where the Gospel begins. Christianity does not say, “Get strong, get right, then come to God.” It says, “Come as you are—broken and sick—and God will open the door and meet you there.”
So what does all of this mean when the radio turns off and life resumes? It means that faith is not about escaping reality; it’s about seeing it differently. It means that God is not waiting for you to clean up your doubts before engaging with you. It means that questions are not threats to the believer in a casual conversation. It means that grace is not a reward for belief, but the ground on which belief grows.
Paul became all things to all people because he trusted that God is already at work in every human life, even before faith has a name.
If you’re listening today because someone shared this program with you—if you’re curious, cautious, or quietly searching—know this: you are not being strongarmed, or manipulated, or coerced. You are in the right place and at the right time. And you are simply being welcomed in, to meet with the Lord Jesus—invited into a story where God moves toward people; invited into a faith that makes room for honesty; invited into a hope that does not depend on having everything figured out. Paul’s confidence was not in his ability to persuade but in God’s ability to meet people where they are and carry them forward.
I hope you find through this word today that God is near you. This was the same hope Paul had. This is why he said, “I have become all things to all people, so that by all possible means I might save some.” Ultimately, Paul could say that only because God had already done it first.
In Jesus Christ, God became one of us. Not to impress us. Not to overpower us. But to walk with us. And that same God still meets people on unscheduled days at churches, in cars, on dusty roads, grocery stores, schools, or wherever else. In questions and in conversations. In moments of quiet crisis and unexpected openness.
Wherever you are today—curious, skeptical, hopeful, or unsure—God is not far off. He is closer than you think.
Heavenly Father, today there is someone standing at the door of faith—knocking, searching, unsure. They may feel skeptical, worried, afraid, confused, or unworthy of love. I pray that You would meet them right where they are. Reveal Yourself to them through Your birth, Your death, Your resurrection—through the hope, the sacrifice, and the new life they need today. Let them see You, waiting with open arms, ready to embrace them, just as they are. Lead them gently into the fullness of life found only in You.
In Jesus’ Name. Amen.
Reflections for March 22, 2026
Title: Meeting You Where You AreMark Eischer: You’re listening to The Lutheran Hour. For FREE online resources, archived audio, and more, go to lutheranhour.org. Joining us now, here’s Lutheran Hour Speaker Dr. Michael Zeigler.
Mike Zeigler: Thank you, Mark. And thanks to Pastor Greg Manning for the message today, about how God meets us. Also, we get to visit once more today with Professor Jeff Gibbs, an emeritus professor of New Testament studies at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. Thanks for coming back to join us, Jeff.
Jeff Gibbs: Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the chance to be here.
Mike Zeigler: We heard in the message this passage Pastor Manning preached on today from 1 Corinthians 9. It comes from a bigger section where Paul is dealing with bigger issues. And as I read it, it seems like in chapters 8, 9, and 10, these are all kind of a section. And in this section, he’s addressing a problem perhaps that’s come from these slogans that the Corinthians seem to be using, slogans like, we all have knowledge, or all things are permissible, all things are lawful. Is that a good way to kind of track with what Paul’s saying here in these chapters?
Jeff Gibbs: Well, I think it is a helpful way, yes. And I would call them “snooty slogans.” Like, “Well, we all have knowledge.”
Mike Zeigler: Yes. You got to say it with that tone.
Jeff Gibbs: Or here it comes: “Or at least I do!” So yeah, I do think people who have studied 1st Corinthians have kind of carefully thought through, because there’s no quotation marks. But I think most people agree that a couple of times, like these ones that you mentioned, Paul is sort of echoing their own words back to them. And then showing how their words, which on the surface are true, nevertheless, the way they’re using them are filled with lies, if I could say it that way.
Mike Zeigler: Okay.
Jeff Gibbs: Yeah, yeah. See, every good lie is about 49 percent truth. Right?
Mike Zeigler: Okay.
Jeff Gibbs: So it’s not quite a half-truth.
Mike Zeigler: Okay.
Jeff Gibbs: It’s an almost half-truth. But yeah, and Pastor Manning used a word in his sermon. He used the word “posture,” and I just think that’s the perfect word. What is their posture over against one another? “We all have knowledge–especially me.” In chapter 12, it’ll be, “we all have spiritual gifts–especially me.” And this is utterly destructive of the Christian community, of any community, really.
And it’s ultimately utterly destructive of the Gospel itself because it puts me above you, and not in order to reach down and come down to where you are the way Christ did, Pastor Manning said, but in order to look at you and say, “Why can’t you come up where I am?” So that’s the posture that Paul is trying to address here. And it does, I think it binds together 8, 9, 10, probably on even into 11. It binds this section of 1st Corinthians together.
Mike Zeigler: So what might be some of the most important things that these chapters say for our context [in the] 21st century, not just North American culture, but Christian North American culture?
Jeff Gibbs: Again, there’s a lot of parallels between—with all different adjustments being made—first-century Corinth’s a very up-and-coming, very successful, high-powered place, athletic competition, celebrity culture. That’s what it is. It’s a celebrity culture. And so, that’s the first place to beware in the church in North America is because we’re surrounded by people that like celebrities. Some of us want to be celebrities. “Who wants to be a millionaire?” The answer to that is almost always, well, I suppose that God can do anything He wants. But if you want to be a celebrity, the most important thing you should probably do at that point is repent. If you want to make somebody else a celebrity, the most important thing you can do is to say, “Why would I want to do that?” Whether it’s a pastor, or a teacher, or an author, a church leader. You don’t have to look very far. This just permeates American culture. So really, if we just worked at that, at just loving one another and not putting one another up or putting one another down, we [would] get a lot done.
Mike Zeigler: Thanks for joining us.
Jeff Gibbs: Yeah. Thank you, Mike. It’s a pleasure to be here.
Music Selections for this program:
“A Mighty Fortress” arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed” by Isaac Watts, arr. Peter Prochnow. Music courtesy of The Hymnal Project of the Michigan District, LC-MS.
“Crucifer” by Sydney H. Nicholson, arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“My Song Is Love Unknown” From The Concordia Organist (© 2009 Concordia Publishing House) Used by permission.