Larry’s Prideful Charity: How 1 Corinthians 13:1–2 Reveals That Without Love, I Am Nothing

Frank Wible
Oct 6
3 min read

Larry sat in the front row of a charity gala, the lights glimmering off the crystal chandeliers above. His name was printed on the evening’s banner, Presented by Larry Dawson. Cameras flashed, reporters shook his hand, and guests whispered about his generosity.

Surrounded by praise and luxury, Larry realized that good deeds done for self-glory echo hollow before God.

He smiled politely as they praised his kindness. Deep down, though, he loved the attention. The recognition felt like fuel. Every donation, every event, every kind act gave him a sense of importance. He wasn’t helping people to honor God—he was doing it to love himself more.

At church, he often gave the largest offerings. He supported missions and youth programs, but his prayers were always focused on what people thought of him. He had become the kind of man whose kindness was a performance.

One Sunday, his pastor preached from 1 Corinthians 13:1–2. If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. The words hit him harder than he expected.

The pastor paused and repeated, “Without love, I am nothing.” Those words echoed in Larry’s mind long after the service ended.

Driving home that afternoon, he replayed his life in his mind, every charity dinner, every photo opportunity, every handshake. It all looked good on the outside, but his motives were hollow.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He opened his Bible and read the verse again, slowly this time. If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

Tears welled in his eyes as he realized the truth: he had been living for applause, not for Christ. His heart had been full of pride, not love.

For the first time, Larry prayed a different kind of prayer. “God, I’ve been serving for the wrong reasons. Teach me to love people the way You love them, not to be seen, but to serve.”

Over the next few weeks, he stepped away from the spotlight. He began helping at a local homeless outreach program where no one knew who he was. There were no cameras, no headlines, no recognition—just need and compassion.

Away from cameras and applause, Larry finally learned that true giving flows from love, not pride.

One cold morning, as he handed out blankets to a group of men sleeping under a bridge, one of them said, “Thank you for seeing us.” Those words pierced his heart. It wasn’t praise, it was gratitude born from real connection.

Larry realized that this was what love looked like, quiet, humble, and pure. It didn’t demand attention or admiration. It simply gave because that’s what Jesus would do. As time went on, the emptiness that once haunted him began to fade. Serving in secret filled him with peace that money and attention never could.

He learned that without love I am nothing wasn’t a condemnation, it was an invitation. God was calling him to live for something greater than himself.

Larry still had wealth and influence, but now he used both to glorify God rather than his own name. What had once been pride became purpose.

Looking back, he often told others, “It’s not what you do that matters most, it’s why you do it. Without love, I am nothing. But with love, I finally became something real.”

What reminds you most that love matters more than success?