Foolish In The World, Wise In The Spirit – Paul's Kind Of “Crazy"

They called him crazy. Not just once, but often. When Paul stood before kings and governors, when he preached resurrection to the dead, when he sang in chains and smiled through stonings, people didn’t know what to make of him. “You are out of your mind, Paul!” Festus cried (Acts 26:24). And Paul, calmly, without blinking, said, “I am not out of my mind... but speak words of truth and sober judgment.”

The world thought he was a fool.

But there’s a line—etched by God Himself—between what people call foolish, and what God calls a fool.

Psalm 14:1 says plainly:
“The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”
That word in Hebrew is nābāl—a term not for someone who’s silly or uneducated, but for someone who is morally twisted and willfully blind. It means one who despises truth, even when it’s right in front of them. It’s not a mental problem—it’s a heart rebellion. The nābāl refuses to acknowledge the God of creation, the One who has revealed Himself in nature, in Scripture, and in the life of His Son.

That’s not Paul.

Paul saw Yeshua. Face-down, blind, burning in the light of heaven on the road to Damascus, he met the One he thought he was defending—and found out he was actually fighting against Him. From that moment on, Paul wasn’t a man walking in darkness—he was a man set ablaze. He wasn’t a nābāl—a rejecter of truth—but a mōros, a man labeled as irrational, absurd, and even foolish in the eyes of the world.

Acts 9:3-5 recounts his encounter:
“Suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ ‘Who are you, Lord?’ Saul asked. ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,’ He replied.”
In that moment, the world’s wisdom was flipped upside down. What Paul had believed to be foolishness was in fact the Truth. And what he thought was truth—the zealous defense of the law—was in fact leading him further from God.

He wasn’t a fool before God.
He was just treated like one by the world.

And that’s where 1 Corinthians 4:10 comes in. Paul writes to the believers in Corinth:
“We are fools for Christ's sake…” Not because he rejected God like a nābāl, but because the world couldn’t understand Spirit-born boldness, suffering with joy, or preaching a crucified Savior as King. The Greek word here is mōros—where we get “moron.” It means irrational, absurd, illogical. To the Greeks who prized logic and the Jews who demanded signs, Paul’s Gospel looked like nonsense. But Paul wasn’t shaken by it. He embraced it.

Because he knew there was a difference between being called a fool by men and being called faithful by God.

In 1 Corinthians 1:18, Paul lays it out:
“The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”
Again, “foolishness” is mōria—absurdity, madness in their eyes. But Paul had seen something. He had heard the Voice. He had been changed. And so their mockery didn’t move him. Because the wisdom of God is upside down to the world. It doesn’t make sense to those who think they have everything figured out.

1 Corinthians 1:27 says:
“God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, He chose the weak things to shame the strong.”
God does this deliberately, to turn the tables on what the world values. God delights in using what the world throws away—the weak, the broken, the humble—to bring glory to Himself. And Paul? Paul was willing to be tossed out if it meant Messiah was lifted up. He had tasted something better—a Spirit-wisdom that defied human logic.

This wasn’t just doctrine—it was Paul’s lived-out reality.

He had every reason to boast: Jewish pedigree, Roman citizenship, education under Gamaliel, mastery of Torah. He was a rising star, admired and feared. But after that blinding light, he counted it all loss. In Philippians 3:8, he says,
“I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
The Greek word for loss here is zēmia—damaging, harmful. Paul didn’t just say his past was unimportant—he said it would harm his soul to hold on to it. Why? Because holding on would pull him back into worldly wisdom, into pride, into control. But he had tasted something better—Spirit-wisdom.

The word for that wisdom is sophia—but not the kind taught in Greek academies, or the type the philosophers of Athens prided themselves in. Paul speaks of a wisdom hidden from the wise, a mystērion—a secret that is revealed only to the humble. 1 Corinthians 2:7 says:
“We speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, the hidden wisdom, which God ordained before the ages for our glory.”
It’s sophia that doesn’t make headlines. It’s the kind that kneels to wash feet, that weeps for cities, that bleeds on a cross and calls it victory. This wisdom of God calls us to lay down everything, even our right to our own dignity, for the sake of Christ and His kingdom. It looks foolish, but it is the very power of God to save.

That’s the wisdom Paul walked in.

That’s why the world thought he was mad. And in 2 Corinthians 5:13, he says:
“If we are out of our minds, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you.”
The phrase “out of our minds” comes from the Greek existēmi—to stand outside oneself, to be beside oneself, overwhelmed, caught up in something greater than the world can understand. Paul says, “If I seem crazy, it’s because I’ve been caught up in the Spirit. If I seem calm, it’s for your sake—so you can hear the message clearly.”

He wasn’t reckless. He was ruled by love. The love of God so consumed him that he didn’t care if he looked like a fool. He had found something worth more than all the accolades, all the understanding, and all the approval of the world.

And he wasn’t ashamed of his scars. In 2 Corinthians 11, he lists them without blinking—whippings, beatings, shipwrecks, starvation, sleepless nights. Then he says something strange:
“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.”
Why? Because the power of Christ rests on the weak. Because when Paul was at his end, God’s strength broke through.

2 Corinthians 12:10 says:
“When I am weak, then I am strong.”

That’s not foolishness. That’s revelation.

The world says: “Be strong. Be polished. Be impressive.”
The Spirit says: “Be broken. Be yielded. Be full of Me.”

So Paul chose the Spirit. Even if they laughed. Even if they called him mad. Even if it cost him everything. He didn’t mind being a mōros in their eyes. Because he refused to be a nābāl in God's eyes.

So what does this mean for us today?

It means that when the world calls you "simple" for believing the Bible, they’re using Paul’s word—mōros. But when someone rejects God entirely, that’s nābāl—and that’s a road to destruction.

It means that being misunderstood for Christ’s sake is not shame—it’s a badge of spiritual clarity. We’re not crazy; we’re just wise in the Spirit.

It means when you live like the kingdom is real—when you give, forgive, bless, worship, speak truth, lay hands, cry for the lost, rejoice in suffering—you may look crazy to the world.

But you’re not. You’re wise in the Spirit.

So don’t be afraid to dance when others sit, to preach when others mock, to weep when others scroll. Don’t fear the world’s labels. Just fear the Lord—and walk in His wisdom. The world might call you foolish, but God will call you faithful.

Because at the end of all things, it will not be the ones with titles and trophies who shine like stars.

It will be the ones who were willing to look like fools—but were never fools in God’s eyes.

image is done by my chatgpt generated at my description.