Tonight, I want to take us into one of the most well-known passages in the New Testament by way of a familiar tune from the musical Rent—“Seasons of Love.”
Now, before I get ahead of myself, I failed to recognize last week that some folks were less than familiar with the musical Wicked than I had assumed. While more people have likely heard the music or watched Rent because the film version has been out for 20 years, permit me to give a brief synopsis. Written by Jonathan Larson, Rent follows a group of friends living in Manhattan’s East Village and Alphabet City at a time when those neighborhoods were a center for bohemian and counterculture communities. The friends are impoverished artists, creatives, activists, and academics who often struggle to make ends meet. Most are Queer and HIV positive or living with AIDS. Their whole world is set against the backdrop of the HIV/AIDS crisis, and they know many others who have succumbed to AIDs or are in the final stages of the disease. Indeed, the characters mirror Larson and the original cast and crew to the point that in one scene portraying a support group for people with AIDS, the names of the individuals would change each night to honor friends and colleagues lost to the disease. Specifically, the show follows one unnamed year in their lives as they are transformed—positively and negatively—by their relationships and their love.
And so “Seasons of Love”—the opening number of the film adaptation—asks a powerful question: How do we measure a year in the life of a person? The song lists ways like minutes, sunsets, cups of coffee, miles, laughter, or strife. But the true message is that the most important way to measure life is through love.
And isn’t that exactly what Paul is getting at in 1 Corinthians 13?
Paul’s words are bold and challenging. He tells the church in Corinth—and the church in Columbus today—that we can be the most talented, the most gifted, the most faithful people around, but if we don’t have love, none of that matters. Without love we become noise without meaning.
Tonight, I want us to focus on four points. First, the measure of our lives is not what we have, but how we love. In our culture, we often measure success in terms of what we accomplish. We track milestones, how far we’ve come, how much we’ve earned, and how much we’ve achieved. But when we turn to Paul’s words, we are reminded that none of that matters without love.
The question becomes: Are we measuring our lives the right way?
The song “Seasons of Love” pushes us to think about this too. “525,600 minutes… how do you measure a year?” The song suggests that it’s not about what you’ve done or acquired, but rather how much love you’ve shown. Did we love well? Did we forgive? Did we give of ourselves? Did we reflect the love of Jesus to the people around us?
It's been said numerous times, by numerous people both within and beyond Christianity, that the one thing that people have never understood about Christianity is how Christians can acknowledge Jesus with our lips and then leave church and deny Jesus by our actions. Perhaps one of the greatest challenges to us as Christians opposed to Christian nationalism is not the success Christian nationalism has had recently, but the reflection that we too have contributed to a false Christianity every time we have failed to love like Jesus.
We’ve been told that we need to win souls for Christ, but how are we showing those souls the love of Jesus? Jesus’ message was love and God is love, so Christianity without love is not only false, it’s entirely empty of meaning. We are convicted in the guilt of preaching something which is both false and empty. Yet when we live lives which testify to the immeasurable love of Jesus, we preach of the ultimate truth of God.
How are we measuring our lives? Are we living lives marked by love?
Second, love is patient, kind, and enduring—even when it’s hard. Paul doesn’t just stop at telling us to live lives of love; he defines what love looks like. He says, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.” We’ve heard these words many times, but have we allowed them to shape us?
In Rent, the characters wrestle with challenges and heartache, yet in “Seasons of Love,” they come back to this radical idea that love is what sustains them, even in the hardest moments. Likewise, Paul calls us to a love that endures, one that is patient, kind, and sacrificial.
But let’s be honest—it’s not always easy to live out this kind of love. Love requires patience when people irritate us. It demands kindness when we’re hurt. It asks us to keep going, even when it’s hard.
There’s a reason Paul tells the Corinthians that love “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” True love is not a fleeting feeling. It’s a choice we make daily, in every interaction, in every relationship. Are we patient with one another? Are we kind even when kindness is difficult? Are we loving when it costs us something?
Third, love is necessarily collective. How we love is defined by who we love. David Mitchell, the author of Cloud Atlas,[1] wrote that “Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.” It is not enough for us just to love, we must love those near us and further away. We are incapable of true love if our love is conditional or determined by the supposed goodness of others.
Situating this kind of love in environmental terms, the theologian Karen Baker-Fletcher, says: “To love ourselves, body and soul, to the fullest requires loving God, who is revealed in the earth and in our own dusty, earthly bodies. By loving one another, indeed every sentient being, we love God. This also means we are called to resist the poisoning of people and [the] earth.”[2] Given the many ways that we are all interconnected, it should come as no surprise that our love can and should ripple out from us and touch the lives of others. Love is not something to be hoarded. Though there are times we might feel like our love is liquid in a tank and that liquid is getting low, we can always love more. We can love more because God’s love for us is infinite.
Fourth, love is eternal—it is the one thing that lasts. As Paul concludes this chapter, he reminds us that love never ends. Everything else will pass away—prophecies, knowledge, tongues—but love is eternal. Faith, hope, and love abide, and the greatest of these is love.
When we measure our lives in love, we are investing in something eternal. The love we show to others is part of God’s redemptive work in the world. It echoes beyond the moment and very act of love is a glimpse of the kin-dom of God being built in the here and now, a reflection of the love Christ has for us.
In “Seasons of Love,” the refrain reminds us that love is the true measure of a person’s life. We are called to live in a way that our lives are marked by love—love that is patient, kind, enduring, and eternal.
Ask yourselves: How am I measuring my life? Am I measuring it by achievements, by wealth, by success? Or am I measuring it by love?
Friends, tomorrow is both Martin Luther King, Jr., Day and the inauguration of the 47th President of the United States. As we think about the days, weeks, and minutes ahead, let’s also think about how we will spend those days, weeks, and minutes, let us remember that the true measure of life is found in how we love. Not just in the easy moments, but in the hard ones too. In every interaction, every relationship, we have an opportunity to reflect the love of Jesus.
May we be people whose lives are marked by the kind of love that endures. A love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and never fails.
Let us pray. God of boundless love and radical justice, we thank you for revealing your heart through the power of love. Teach us to measure our lives, not by what we possess, but by how deeply we love and serve one another. Empower us with your Spirit, break the chains of injustice, and walk defiantly in the way of Christ, who showed us that love is the most revolutionary act. May we embody your love in the world—a love that heals and a love that restores. In the name of Jesus, our liberator, we pray. Amen.
(The text and the video may differ slightly.)
[1] David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas: A Novel, (New York: Random House, 2004).
[2] Karen Baker-Fletcher, Sisters of Dust, Sisters of Spirit: Womanist Wordings on God and Creation, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998).