The Weak, the Strong, and the Bedroom

The Apostle Paul once wrote to the church in Rome about food.

At that time, some believers felt free to eat meat that had been sacrificed to idols, while others were convinced this was sinful. It was the same church community gathered because of the same gospel, but it was producing two wildly different practices around the dinner table.

So Paul offered a solution: “Those who feel free to eat anything must not look down on those who don’t. And those who don’t eat certain foods must not condemn those who do, for God has accepted them." (Romans 14:3)

What’s fascinating here is that Paul doesn’t tell them to figure out which group is right and then force the other side to get in line. He also doesn't tell them to split into two different communities based on their understanding. Instead, he calls both sides to humility. He tells one group not to despise those who abstain from certain foods, and he tells the other group not to condemn those who eat those foods.

To make this argument, Paul uses a bit of a dicey approach. He labels one group weak, and the other group strong (14:1, 15:1). Paul refers to the weak believers as those "with a sensitive conscience" who view the eating of certain foods as a sin (14:2). Interestingly, Paul puts himself in the opposite group, those of the strong camp. "I know and am convinced on the authority of the Lord Jesus that no food, in and of itself, is wrong to eat" (14:14, 15:1). He doesn't just agree with this side of the argument; Paul also backs it with the authority of the Lord. 

But then he makes a startling concession: "if someone believes it is wrong, then for that person it is wrong" (14:14, emphasis mine). This is a fascinating argument. Paul doesn't say the behavior itself is wrong; he says it is wrong for that person. Sit with that for a second.

That’s not a slam; it’s an acknowledgment that faith expresses itself differently for different people. Some need boundaries to feel secure. Others need freedom to honor God fully. And here’s the kicker: Paul insists that both sides can be faithful to Christ. 

This solution feels great when we observe the early church from afar and chuckle about the issues they had. But this applies to more than just our preferences for hamburgers or pizzas. Let's look at how this same logic plays out if we swap out “food” for “sexuality.”

Today, our main fault lines in the church aren’t over meat or vegetables. Instead, we quickly divide over LGBTQ+ inclusion, gender, and sexual ethics. Some believers are convinced the traditional sexual ethic is the faithful path. Others are equally convinced that affirming same-sex relationships reflects the wideness of God’s mercy.

Sound familiar?

In their book The Widening of God's Mercy, Christopher and Richard Hays (a father/son duo of scholars) make this comparison:

The “strong” ones today are the liberated advocates of unconditional affirmation of same-sex unions; they are tempted to “despise” the “weak,” narrow-minded, rule-following conservatives who would impose limits on their freedom. And the “weak” ones today are the devout, strict followers of what they understand to be God’s law given in scripture; they are tempted to “pass judgment” on the sinful laxity of the “strong” who condone same-sex unions.

The point isn’t food. Or sexuality. The point is whether our lives reflect the lordship of Jesus. But we love missing the point, don’t we? We’d rather argue about menus or marriage licenses than wrestle with what it means to “aim for harmony in the church and try to build each other up." (Romans 14:19)

I mean, imagine Paul scrolling through our church debates on sexuality today. He’d probably be like, “Really? Still fighting about who’s at the table? Have you read my letter?”

The biblical story itself keeps expanding the boundaries of who’s in. From Gentiles welcomed into the people of God, to eunuchs embraced in Isaiah’s vision (Isaiah 56:4–5), to Jesus dining with tax collectors and sinners, the trajectory of Scripture is outward. Always outward.

When we treat sexuality as the one issue where mercy stops widening, we’re not being “biblical," we’re being fearful. Paul’s advice is maddeningly practical: stop passing judgment, keep your convictions before God, and—this is the hardest part—make room for those who differ. Not tolerate. Not endure.

Welcome.

The scandal of Romans 14 is that both the weak and the strong eat together. Both pray over their food with thanksgiving. Both belong at the table. The scandal of Romans 14 today is that both the traditionalist and the married gay couple belong at the same communion table."Paul doesn’t issue any ruling on who is right and who is wrong. He doesn’t render a judicial ruling; instead, he just appeals for unity in the midst of persisting differences" (Hays). Both can honor God in their convictions. Both can live faithfully in ways that look very different. 

Instead, Paul says, "Blessed are those who don’t feel guilty for doing something they have decided is right." (Romans 14:22)

That’s not moral relativism. That’s Paul’s radical gospel vision.

And the church would look more like Jesus if we took it seriously.

Photo by Lily Banse on Unsplash

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