Gospel Judo: The Strategy of Freedom Text: 1 Corinthians 9:19-23
Introduction: The Paradox of Christian Liberty
We live in an age that is utterly confused about the nature of freedom. To the modern mind, freedom is autonomy. It is the absolute right to be left alone, to define your own reality, to do whatever you want so long as it harms no one, a standard which is, of course, impossible to maintain. This definition of freedom is a black hole. It is a declaration of independence not just from tyrants, but from God, from neighbors, from family, from reality itself. And the result is not liberation, but a profound and miserable slavery to the self.
Into this confusion, the Apostle Paul speaks a radical and paradoxical word. He tells us that true Christian freedom is not the right to serve ourselves, but the power to enslave ourselves to others for their good. This is not a contradiction; it is the very logic of the gospel. The Lord Jesus Christ, who possessed all the freedom of deity, did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made Himself a servant, a slave, and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. His glorious liberty was expressed in His voluntary bondage. He stooped to conquer.
And Paul, following his master, lays out for us here the strategic manual for gospel advance. This is not about being a theological chameleon, changing your doctrinal colors to match the wallpaper. This is not about being a man-pleaser, trimming the sails of truth to catch the winds of popular opinion. This is about gospel judo. It is about using the weight and momentum of the culture, the person, the institution against itself in order to bring it to the ground, helpless before the claims of Jesus Christ. It is about a freedom so robust, so secure in Christ, that it is not afraid to put on the chains of a servant in order to break the chains of sin. This is a muscular liberty, a confident freedom, that leverages its own rights for the sake of a greater prize: the souls of men.
The Corinthians were bickering about their rights, particularly their right to eat meat offered to idols. They were flexing their liberty in a way that was tripping up their weaker brothers. Paul has just spent a chapter explaining that he, as an apostle, has more rights than any of them, the right to a wife, the right to be paid for his ministry, and yet he has set them all aside. Why? For the sake of the gospel. And now he generalizes the principle. He shows them what true, gospel-advancing freedom looks like. It is not a pillow to rest on, but a sword to fight with.
The Text
For though I am free from all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I may win more. And to the Jews I became as a Jew, so that I might win Jews. To those who are under the Law, as under the Law though not being myself under the Law, so that I might win those who are under the Law. To those who are without law, as without law, though not being without the law of God but under the law of Christ, so that I might win those who are without law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all men, so that I may by all means save some. So I do all things for the sake of the gospel, so that I may become a fellow partaker of it.
(1 Corinthians 9:19-23 LSB)
The Great Reversal (v. 19)
Paul begins with the foundational paradox.
"For though I am free from all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I may win more." (1 Corinthians 9:19)
Notice the two clauses. First, "I am free from all." This is his status in Christ. He is not under obligation to any human system, any cultural expectation, any religious tradition, for his standing before God. He is a free man. Christ has purchased his liberty from the law, from sin, and from death. He answers to one Master. This freedom is the non-negotiable starting point. You cannot give away what you do not possess. Only a man who is truly free can choose to become a slave.
But look at the second clause: "I have made myself a slave to all." This is not something that was forced upon him; it was a deliberate, strategic choice. He took his glorious freedom and immediately leveraged it. He cashed it in, not for his own comfort, but for the profit of others. The word for slave here is doulos, a bond-servant. He is saying, "I have willingly put myself under the command of everyone I am trying to reach." Their needs, their scruples, their weaknesses, their cultural assumptions, these now become his marching orders. Not because they have any ultimate authority, but because he is on a mission from his true King.
And what is the goal? "So that I may win more." The language is that of conquest, of gain. This is not passive. Paul is not a pacifist. He is a warrior, and souls are the prize. He is not trying to make friends; he is trying to win converts. He is not seeking common ground for the sake of niceness; he is seeking a beachhead for the sake of invasion. This is the engine driving the whole enterprise. The love of God and the love of neighbor compels him to this glorious, voluntary slavery.
Strategic Condescension (v. 20-22a)
Paul then gives us a series of practical examples of what this gospel judo looks like in practice.
"And to the Jews I became as a Jew, so that I might win Jews. To those who are under the Law, as under the Law though not being myself under the Law, so that I might win those who are under the Law. To those who are without law, as without law... so that I might win those who are without law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak." (1 Corinthians 9:20-22a)
He outlines three categories of people: the Jews, the Gentiles, and the weak. When with Jews, he became as a Jew. This means he would respect their dietary laws, observe their feasts, and generally live within the framework of their covenantal traditions. We see him do this in the book of Acts, taking a Nazarite vow and circumcising Timothy. Why? Not because he believed those things were necessary for salvation, he fought that error tooth and nail in Galatians, but because they were not a barrier to the gospel. He was willing to put on the yoke of the ceremonial law, from which Christ had freed him, in order to remove a stumbling block from the path of his Jewish kinsmen.
To those "without law," meaning the Gentiles, he became as one without law. He did not impose Jewish food laws or ceremonial washings on them. He met them where they were, quoting their poets on Mars Hill, reasoning from nature and conscience. He ate what was set before him. He moved freely in their world. But notice the crucial parenthesis that he immediately adds in the next verse. This is the guardrail that keeps this strategy from flying off the road into compromise.
And to the weak, he became weak. This brings the argument full circle back to the problem in Corinth. The "weak" are those Christians whose consciences are not yet fully informed by their liberty in Christ. They are easily stumbled by things that are, in themselves, neutral. Paul says he accommodates them. He will not eat meat if it causes his brother to stumble. He will not drink wine if it offends. He limits his freedom out of love for the immature. He does not despise their weakness; he enters into it in order to strengthen them.
The Unbreakable Boundary (v. 21b)
Here is the essential qualification. Without this, everything else becomes mushy relativism.
"...though not being without the law of God but under the law of Christ..." (1 Corinthians 9:21b)
When Paul is with the Gentiles, he is not an antinomian. He is not a lawless libertine. His freedom from the Mosaic covenant as a system of salvation does not mean he is free from the authority of God. Far from it. He is "under the law of Christ." What is this law? It is the moral law of God, the Ten Commandments, refracted through the life and teachings of the Lord Jesus. It is the law written on the heart by the Holy Spirit. It is the royal law of liberty, the law of love. Love is the fulfillment of the law.
This is the bedrock. Paul's flexibility is in the adiaphora, the things indifferent. He will bend on ceremony, on custom, on cultural preference. He will not bend one millimeter on righteousness. He will become a Jew in matters of diet, but he will not become a Judaizer in matters of doctrine. He will quote pagan poets to the Athenians, but he will not worship at their idols. He will become all things to all men, but he will not sin to win a sinner. The moral law of God, as fulfilled and expressed in Christ, is the iron framework within which all his flexible strategies operate. To miss this is to turn Paul's apostolic tactic into a recipe for apostasy.
The Method and the Motive (v. 22b-23)
Paul summarizes his method and then states his ultimate motivation.
"I have become all things to all men, so that I may by all means save some. So I do all things for the sake of the gospel, so that I may become a fellow partaker of it." (1 Corinthians 9:22b-23)
Here it is, the famous and often abused phrase: "I have become all things to all men." This is not a call to be inoffensive. Paul was one of the most offensive men of his day, he was constantly getting arrested, beaten, and thrown out of town. This is a call to be strategic. It means removing every unnecessary obstacle, every cultural hang-up, every personal preference that stands between a lost person and the cross of Christ. It means learning to speak their language, understand their worldview, and enter their world, all without being contaminated by it. The goal is not to be liked, but to "by all means save some." Paul is a realist. He knows he will not win everyone. But he will use every tool in his possession, every ounce of his freedom, to rescue as many as he can from the fire.
And why? What drives this relentless, self-abnegating mission? "For the sake of the gospel." The gospel is not just a message he carries; it is a reality that has captured him. And then he says something remarkable: "so that I may become a fellow partaker of it." This does not mean Paul was unsure of his own salvation. Rather, it means that the joy of the gospel is multiplied and deepened when it is shared. The blessings of salvation are not a private hoard to be enjoyed in isolation. They are a feast, and the joy of the feast grows with every new guest that is brought to the table. Paul's own enjoyment of the gospel was tied to seeing others come to enjoy it with him. He wanted to be a joint-heir, a co-participant, not just in the message, but in the fruit of the message.
Conclusion: Freedom for Conquest
So what does this mean for us? It means our Christian liberty has a purpose that is far grander than our personal comfort or our private choices. Our freedom was purchased at an infinite price so that we might become instruments of liberation for others.
Are you free from the dietary laws of the Old Testament? Good. Use that freedom to eat a hot dog with your unbelieving neighbor and talk to him about the Bread of Life. Are you free to drink alcohol? Excellent. Use that freedom to have a beer with a coworker and tell him about the living water, or use that freedom to abstain when you are with a brother who is weak in that area.
This principle applies to everything, from the music we listen to, to the way we dress, to the way we speak. We must constantly be asking the question: how can I leverage my freedom for the advance of the gospel? How can I lay down my rights to build a bridge to a lost soul? Where do I need to become "as a Jew," and where do I need to become "as one without law?" All the while, we must stand firm on that unshakeable foundation: we are not without the law of God but are under the glorious law of Christ.
This is not easy. It requires wisdom, discernment, and a love for others that overcomes our love for self. It means dying to our preferences, our comforts, and our pride. But this is the path of our Master. He was the freest man who ever lived, and He used that freedom to become a slave for us. And He calls us to take up our cross, to lay down our rights, and to follow Him into the glorious, paradoxical freedom of gospel conquest.