2 Corinthians 11–13

In the light of the coming day, when the Lord will commend His servants, praising oneself in front of one's fellows appears to be nothing but folly. Paul admits this in the first verse of our chapter. He had been speaking about himself in the previous chapter, and he says more about himself in this one. But his whole aim was to assure the Corinthians that his apostolic mission was real and genuine. He pleads guilty to this "folly" and asks them to bear with him in it.

The apostle loved to spend himself in the service of Christ or the saints. He hated to say a word about himself even when the occasion called for it, at least when it might look like self-defence. His wisdom, and his joy, was to testify of Christ. To speak of himself even as His servant he counts "folly," however necessary. But it is part of the enemy's tactics to undermine, lower, and if possible destroy a true servant of the Lord... For can anything be more likely to frustrate testimony to Christ than to blacken the one who carries it, in his motives, ways, and aims?

You can see the point of this opening verse by looking back at verse 12 of the last chapter. He is about to do, in his own way, what he had there called unwise. For this deliberate act of folly he asks them to be patient with him, since glorying in the Lord left no proper room for self-commendation of any kind. So if he now seemed to contradict in practice the rule of life he had just set before them, let them remember this: it is to them, and for their sakes, that he exposes his weakness. They might well bear with him, for he was no willing actor. Their own readiness to believe the claims of his critics had forced him onto the stage.

It is humbling yet instructive to contrast the apostle's pain at having to speak like this with the all too obvious pleasure many a servant of Christ takes in personal stories. Such stories seem to have no aim but to prove his own cleverness at the expense of poor Mr. This or Mr. That, or the great sacrifices he has made for the truth, or the outstanding excellence of his own line of things in the testimony of Christ.

If it seems strange that Paul asks the Corinthians to bear with a little folly in him, let us still remember that it is God who inspires him to write as he does. Paul thought it folly to speak of himself and of his own labours for Christ, and would far rather have avoided it. But God required it here, and His inspiring it keeps it fully free from exaggeration or from exalting a man too highly... It is valuable for our day, when men exalt themselves and claim to be apostles or something like it. Measure such a claim against Paul's character, labour, and sufferings, and these modern claims will collapse in utter shame.

These chapters hold much that is of deep importance for all saints, and for all time. We gain greatly by having it given to us not as theory, but as actual practice, worked out between the apostle and some of his fellow believers.

Almost everyone speaks of jealousy as something evil; Scripture hardly ever does. It even speaks of a jealousy that comes from God. Paul can say to believers, "I feel a divine jealousy for you"… His love for Christ, and his love for the saints, made him jealous in case anyone or anything should come between them and Christ. He had no pity for anyone who used false teaching to lure the saints away from Christ.

The Jews treated betrothal as binding as marriage, and only a divorce could end it… Scripture also uses it as a picture of God's favour to Israel, His ancient people, in a future day, when He will "betroth" them to Himself for ever (Hosea 2:19-20). It pictures too where the church stands with Christ. Paul wrote to the believers at Corinth, "I betrothed you to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ" (2 Cor. 11:2). The conduct of the saints should be true to this betrothal.

As an ambassador of Christ he represented Christ. As God's effective messenger of grace he had betrothed the church at Corinth to the Lord, gathering from her lips a virgin confession of His saving name. He wanted to present her to the true Bridegroom on the coming day, still in the first, unchilled love of her betrothal. True gospel service presents to Christ what Christ will Himself present in glory to Himself… Notice that the apostle is not speaking here of individual believers, but of the whole company of the saved at Corinth.

"Chaste" means purity of body and blamelessness of life. It also carries the thought of something marked by awe, something very rare in the way this godless world runs. And it carries the thought of something costly, given up in sacrifice. If we want to bring joy to the heart of Christ, we must refuse the flesh.

The Song of Solomon does not go beyond the day of betrothal, but Paul points to the wedding day, when the betrothed one is presented to Christ as a pure virgin. What does he mean by a pure virgin? He means one who is true, one against whom not a breath of reproach could be raised. So he warns them: "I am afraid that as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your thoughts will be led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ."

This is the destiny of the saints. They are loved, washed, sanctified, justified, with this close relationship to Christ in view. To the apostle that relationship was completely real and sure. It was not so to those who lowered the standard — the standard of future hope, of present separateness, and of conscious nearness to Christ in love and holiness. They lowered it by allowing themselves ease in this life, and links with the world in its aims and ways, its philosophy or even its religion… We are betrothed now to one husband, Christ Himself, and we are called to judge not only our conduct but our unsuitable thoughts and feelings.

Surely Revelation 12:9 and Revelation 20:1, together with 2 Corinthians 11:3, are enough to decide this question. Satan made use of that subtle animal, before it was reduced to its humiliating condition.

Verse 3 is very important, because it exposes the way the great adversary sets the trap for our feet. In 2 Corinthians 4 we were told how he blinds the minds of those who do not believe. Here we find that some have believed, so his blinding tactics have failed with them. Even so, he is still stubbornly active. He aims to deceive them, as he once deceived Eve. When he acts with cunning as the serpent, he is more dangerous than when he attacks as a roaring lion.

The enemy's approach was indeed subtle. It was to awaken distrust of God in Eve's heart. Could it be good to refuse man the fruit of any tree in the garden? Distrust of God opens the door to every sin.

Their minds at Corinth were beginning to be corrupted by someone who came with impressive claims in the flesh. Eve was not satisfied with what God had made her. She listened to the lie of the serpent when he offered her to become like God. In the same way, the Corinthians were not satisfied simply with what Christ had made them. They were seeking wisdom of the flesh.

The devil, in the form of a serpent, deceived Eve in a very subtle and crafty way. Step by step he corrupted her mind as to God, and led her to act apart from her husband and independently of him. He works in the same way today. He aims at diverting us from simplicity and from true subjection to Christ.

This expression means two things. First, a view of gospel truth so clear and unhindered that it convinces both heart and mind of its absolute excellence and perfection. Second, a faith strong and simple enough to set the believer knowingly in Christ, and so to separate him in heart and spirit from the world. Only those who look at Him with a single heart and eye have the assured and delighted sense of completeness in Christ. This is the believer's true excellence, and to cast him down from it is the constant effort of the enemy.

There were "false brothers" who not only made a Christian profession but claimed to be apostles... they came to the saints with such an impressive outward show that they appeared as angels of light and ministers of righteousness. These men used satanic subtlety. They perverted the truth by preaching "another Jesus," "another Spirit," and "another gospel."

The more Christ is a living person to the soul, the more that soul recognises the reality of Satan's work against it. The enemy is a real and active adversary who must be resisted. To feel nothing of his schemes is the awful sign of an unbelief, common and growing in the Christian world.

After all, it is not knowing Satan that keeps us aware of his schemes and able to spot them. It is keeping in God's presence... The moment we know a thing is of Satan, the temptation is over if we are walking with God... The devil has this character of subtlety, like the serpent, and not always open opposition. But the place of obedience to God will always upset him.

In those early times there were "false brothers." They claimed to be Christians, and even claimed to be apostles. Such were "false apostles" and "deceitful workers." Yet their outward show was so fine that they looked like angels of light and ministers of righteousness. With satanic subtlety these men perverted the truth by preaching "another Jesus," "another Spirit," and "another gospel" (v. 4).

In Eden the tempter contradicted what God said, and the same thing happens in the church... You have received a class of teachers and honoured them. They are clearly trying to turn your hearts away from us, and you are listening to their hints. But why this change of feeling towards the one who first led you to the truth? Have these men revealed to you a new and better gospel? Is the Jesus they speak of a different Lord from ours? Are you receiving from the newcomer a better Comforter than the One who first taught you to cry, Abba, Father? You know it is not so.

Both words occur in Galatians 1:6-7. Paul was astonished that the Galatians were so quickly changing to a different gospel, which was not another. Someone might think Paul was admitting there could be another gospel than the one he had preached to them. To stop that, he uses allos with an emphatic negative — "which is not another." He is saying flatly that there was no other gospel, and there could be no other. Compare 2 Corinthians 11:4.

The gospel is the essence of simplicity. It sets Christ before us as the One who expresses all that God has to say to us. He is also the One who has done the necessary work of redemption, and in whom we now stand before God. It brings us into complete subjection to Him. But Satan is a master of craft and subtlety. Using these men who opposed Paul, he did not deny outright the Christ whom Paul preached. Verse 4 is clear evidence of this. If they could have come with another gospel, announcing another Jesus and giving another spirit, there might have been something to say for them — especially if it had been an improvement on what the Corinthians had already received.

Every one of these blessings had come to them through the apostle and no one else. Yet they had thought little of him. At the same time they were ready to honour self-exalting men who had set themselves up to teach on his foundation. Those men praised the twelve apostles only to run Paul down.

In his ministry Paul wanted the affections of believers kept in pure loyalty to Christ. In 2 Corinthians 11 he is urgent about this, and warns the saints against any who came "preaching another Jesus." Later in the chapter he traces such speaking to the work of Satan. Satan always seeks to cloud the preciousness and glories of this incomparable Christ in the minds of His own.

The apostle loved to spend himself in the service of Christ or of the saints. He grudged a word about himself even when the occasion demanded it — at least when it might look like self-defence. His wisdom, like his joy, was to testify of Christ. To speak of himself even as His servant he counts "folly," however necessary. But it is part of the enemy's tactics to undermine, lower, and if possible destroy a true servant of the Lord. It is just as much his tactic to cry up those who serve their own appetites, and who deceive the hearts of the unsuspecting by fair speech and plausibility. Is there any better way to frustrate testimony to Christ than to blacken the one who carries it — his motives, his ways, his aims?

None of these blessings had come to them through any channel but the apostle. Yet they had thought little of him. They were ready to honour the self-exalting men who had set up to teach on his foundation, praising the twelve only to belittle Paul... They had had the fullest experience of the apostle in everything. In knowledge as in power they knew he was behind none, unless it were in the rhetoric of the schools which the Greek mind overvalued.

These false teachers wanted to undermine the Apostle's work. So they called his apostleship and service into question.

You have heard of the original apostles of the Lord. Those who keep praising them at my expense give them no honest praise; even so, you do well to honour their names and calling. I have already admitted in public that I am not worthy to be counted one of their company. Yet in power, in knowledge, or in effective grace, where have they surpassed me? ... And if knowledge is the test of true apostleship, who taught you what you now claim to know of God and of His things? Was it not I?

Paul was not in the least behind the chiefest apostles as to the truth God gave him. If he was a plain man in speech, there is no doubt that in the knowledge of the ways of God he surpassed others. And when he was among the Corinthians there was an honest transparency about him that they could not deny. He had shown himself plainly among them. They really had no excuse for accepting men who merely put on a show of superiority, so contrary to the openness of faith and love.

In Corinthians he is comparing himself with other apostles, but in Ephesians he has the glory of Christ in view, and he makes nothing of himself... In Judaism he was at the top; in Christianity he goes right to the bottom.

There are three statements in which he speaks of himself: chief of sinners; not fit to be called an apostle; and less than the least of all saints. He said all these things of himself, and it seems that the further he advanced in these glorious things, the less he thought of himself. I do not know of anything more likely to humble us than a grasp of the glory of Christ.

idiōtēs (from idios, "one's own") has a different meaning. It describes private persons, as distinct from officials or professionals, and so simple or untaught people… The word also occurs in 2 Corinthians 11:6. There Paul insists that though he may be simple, or untrained, in speech, he is not so in knowledge.

They ran down his person. "For his letters, they say, are weighty and powerful, but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech contemptible" (10:10). He writes so much in this letter about his self-sacrifice, his zeal, his sincerity, his courage, his tireless service and his many sufferings because they had attacked and belittled him in all these things.

They had all had the fullest experience of the apostle in everything. In power and in knowledge alike, they knew he was behind no one — unless it was in the trained rhetoric of the schools, which the Greek mind overvalued.

But your new director says my speech is rude. I have admitted it — more than that, it is a chief badge and mark of that grace of God in which I make my boast. That grace makes the weakness of the earthen vessel a display of the excellence of the power that has filled and used it… If knowledge is a test of true apostleship, from whose lips, if not mine, did you learn what you now claim so surely to know of God and of His things?

The power that produces this effect in preaching is not natural eloquence, though God may use eloquence too, and it has its own place and effect. Apollos was a skilful speaker. Paul was not; as he tells us, he was rude of speech (Acts 18:24; 2 Cor. 11:6). But he spoke with a wisdom and power that were creative in their effect, for his words were not his own.

He may have been weak in bodily presence and contemptible in his power of speech — "rude in speech," as he says elsewhere. Yet he spoke with such agony of spirit that his "rude" words must have hit like a whirlwind. Multitudes were converted through them… We hear Gospel talks that are good, clear, sound, striking, intelligent, eloquent, sweet. But they achieve little, either in conversions or in stirring up the powers of darkness… The difference lies in the character and quality of the messengers.

These false teachers were trying to undermine the Apostle's work by calling his apostleship and service into question. He could say with truth that he was in no way behind the very chief apostles. He might be rude in speech, yet he had no lack of divine knowledge, for in everything he had made the truth plain to them.

There was neither secrecy nor trickery in what we did at Corinth. Our ways were open to the view of all, as we lived and walked with God, and in His sight. And we did not hold back from telling you anything you were ready to receive.

From verses 6 to 9 we gather that people had belittled the apostle. It was not only that his speech was not polished. It was also that he had taken no money from the Corinthians while he was among them. When he speaks of this, his language carries a note of irony. He had lowered himself to lift them up. Was this an offence, a sin? He had accepted help from other churches, especially those in Macedonia. He calls this robbing, or spoiling, them — still irony, of course.

I took no money from you when I brought you the good news. Some among you are clever enough to see in this a solid argument against the truth of my apostleship. A man truly worthy of that title, they will say, should think more of his official dignity. He should make the honour of his presence felt. Fees should back up authority. Christ's careless sheep should learn the value of sound doctrine from the price attached to their privilege of hearing true apostolic teaching!

As for me, I own myself in fault. I came in the name of Him who did not please Himself. In my simplicity I thought that love would reproduce itself, and that my lowering myself would dethrone your pride. I reckoned that in my unselfish labour you would have found an example to follow, rather than a cause of blame. So if I erred in this, I did it on purpose.

Low-minded men misunderstand and despise a humility and love they cannot match themselves. Some at Corinth bowed to position and money. They were blind to the apostle's grace in working with his own hands, or at least in taking no help from rich Corinth... The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere, at any cost to himself. In some places he felt free and glad to receive — not only from people, but from churches that were walking with God in grace and humility. Where the world's spirit ruled, he held back and would take nothing... From the poor Macedonian brothers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians, nothing.

Was the offence perhaps in taking nothing from them and preaching the gospel freely, without money?... But why? Because he did not love them? God was his witness that this was not the case. He did it to take away the false teachers' boast of preaching for nothing. Then they could not say: we work free of charge, while the apostle takes money for his services.

Paul would not take a penny from the Corinthians. Yet he laid down the rule that people should support the Lord's servant. He laid that rule down for others and threw it away for himself. He worked and supported himself. He ministered the truth, but he kept the things of God far away from money.

Do you not see that the apostle Paul would not use the right to support that the gospel gave him? He would not let anyone take away that confident boast. He had the right, but he preferred to work with his own hands rather than be a burden... What a fearful decline from the whole spirit, and the letter too, of Christianity! What a complete change from the character of the gospel! Men of every kind now count as a stain, and a thing to blame, the very thing that was the apostle's boast.

But small-minded men misunderstand and despise a humility and love they are not capable of themselves. Some at Corinth bowed to position and money. They were blind to the apostle's grace in working with his own hands, or at least in taking no help from rich Corinth. "Did I commit sin in humbling myself that you might be exalted, because I announced the gospel of God to you free of charge? Other churches I spoiled, receiving hire for service towards you." ... From the poor believers in Macedonia he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing. What a contrast that is to the Christian world today!

"I robbed other churches, taking wages of them, to do you service." This strong expression is no exaggeration of the truth. Paul knew the natural temper of the people he is addressing here. He would not stir up feelings in them that might work against the free course of the gospel. So instead he had let too much weight fall on the grace of other believers. It is a low place these kingly Corinthians now have to fill. They alone were left out of the honour of supporting the apostle. That was a bitter dose, and good for their pride.

When Paul says (2 Cor. 11:8), "I robbed other churches, taking wages of them to do you service," he is clearly speaking in a figure, however absolute the wording. It does not refer to the ministry of the word as such. He had been servant of the Corinthians, and others had paid his wages.

He explains his true motive. "But what I am doing I will also do, in order to cut off the occasion of those who desire an occasion, so that in what they boast about they may be found just as we are." It is a cheap boast, where men have plenty and need no self-denying devotion. "For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ."

At the same time he fully recognised our Lord's rule: "the labourer deserves his wages." Why then, someone may ask, did the apostle not make more use of it? On the one hand, this devoted servant would not claim his rights, for fear he should be misunderstood. On the other hand, some of his converts had only just been won back from the deepest darkness. He felt they needed an object lesson in him, of how to earn an honest living.

For special reasons he would take nothing from the believers at Corinth. He did take from other churches... But how different this is from what is called a paid ministry. Here was a man led by the Spirit to give his whole time to the Lord's work. The Lord would not let him be in want. He supplies what is lacking by putting it into the hearts of people or of churches to give to his needs.

If Paul were with us today, I wonder if there would be gatherings from whom he could not accept gifts?

From verses 6 to 9 we gather that people had belittled the Apostle. They did so partly because his speech was not polished, and partly because he had taken no money from the Corinthians while he was among them. When he refers to this, his language carries a touch of irony. He had humbled himself to lift them up. Was this an offence, a sin? He had accepted help from other churches, especially those in Macedonia. He calls this robbing, or plundering, them — again the language of irony, of course. He had done the Corinthians the greatest possible service, and it cost them nothing.

Paul knew the natural temper of the people he is now addressing. He did not want to stir up feelings among them that might work against the free course of the gospel. So he had allowed an undue pressure on the grace of other saints. These Corinthians, who acted like kings, now have a low place to fill. They found themselves shut out of the honour of supporting the apostle, and that must have been a bitter but healthy blow to their pride... If he came to them, he came at no expense to them. While among them, though he was in need, he would not tell them about his needs. He would live at the cost of others instead — people who could better appreciate his grace.

Later he was at the wealthy city of Corinth, far south of Macedonia, and in real need. It was saints from Macedonia who met that shortage: no doubt saints from Philippi, and perhaps also from Thessalonica and Berea.

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere at his own cost. In some places he felt free and happy to receive, not only from people but from churches, going on with God in grace and humility. Where the world's spirit ruled, he held back and would take nothing... From the poor Macedonian brothers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing.

The apostle was called in an extraordinary way, and it was fitting that he should act in extraordinary grace. This is what he does. He made the gospel without cost to others, at all cost to himself. He did not use his right to a support for himself... It is the giving up of one's right for special reasons of grace.

We are meant to see how fitting this was in wealthy, trading Corinth. He would not have them think of the gospel as one of the goods they traded in. Money could not buy the priceless gift of God. They should not be able to think, even for a moment, that he was after anything of theirs. No, he sought only the people themselves. He sought them in the love of Christ, who was so rich, yet became poor for men, so that His poverty might make them rich.

It was his boast that he took nothing from them, since the brothers in Macedonia had supplied his needs... But why? Because he did not love them? God was his witness that this was not the case. It was to take away from these false teachers their boast of preaching for nothing. Then they could not say, "We work free of charge while the apostle receives money for his services."

"As the truth of Christ is in me, this boasting of mine will not be silenced in the regions of Achaia." This aim matters so much to him that he stakes his faith on his resolve. Nor would he limit his purpose to the walls of Corinth. If there were other churches in Achaia, they must accept the same exemption for their sakes. His boast should be that they were his debtors right to the end. They would then be their own judges. Others might ask them, or they might ask themselves, how they had repaid the man who first brought them the good news of the grace of God.

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere, at any cost to himself. In some places he felt free and happy to receive support, not only from people but from assemblies walking with God in grace and humility. Where the world's spirit ruled, he held back and would take nothing. The general principle stayed in force: "the laborer deserves his wages." The Lord has commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel. The apostle laid down what is right. But in grace he could go beyond it, and he did — not using it for himself but for Christ, wherever His glory called for it. From the poor Macedonian believers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing.

He states his rights only so that he may give them up. Many quote his words only so that they may insist on the very rights he gave up for the gospel's sake. There would be no grace, no moral beauty, in letting go of privileges you never had a right to. But once the right is clearly established, the grace that lets it go shows in full.

The resolve at the close of this passage sounds stern. At first it may seem out of keeping with the warm language of his love elsewhere in the letter. But there is no real contradiction; it was necessary, for love's very sake, to form the decision and hold to it. The enemies of truth had questioned whether his hands were clean, and whether his apostolic mission was valid. Corinthian believers had listened to the slander.

God knew that this was not because of any lack of love to them; in fact love was in it more than they realised.

His true motive he explains. What he does now, he will keep doing. In that way he cuts off the opening from those who want one, so that in the very thing they boast about, they may be found to be just like us. It is a cheap boast, where men have plenty and need no self-denying devotedness. Such men are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ.

I took no money from you when I brought you the good news of the gospel. And some among you are clever enough to see in this a solid argument against the truth of my apostleship. One really worthy of that title, they will say, should have more regard for his official dignity... I came in the name of Him who did not please Himself. In my simplicity I thought that love would reproduce itself, and that my humbling of myself would break down your pride. I expected that in my unselfish labour you would have found an example to follow, not a cause for blame.

What he decided here, he did not decide in a fleshly way. And if their hearts were still too dull to weigh his motive and to justify him in his strange decision, God, whom he served, was the witness who approved him. If his action seemed unloving, they would learn in due time that love alone had driven him to act so.

God knew that this was not because of any lack of love to them: in fact there was more love in it than they realised. But he will keep doing as he has done, to cut off any opportunity from those who are looking for one. Some men were ready to accuse Paul of selfish motives about money the moment he accepted anything from the Corinthians. So he would give them not the slightest opening for it.

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere, at any cost to himself. In some places he felt free and happy to receive help — not only from people, but from churches that were walking with God in grace and humility. Where the world's spirit prevailed, he held back and would receive nothing. The general principle stood untouched: "the laborer deserves his wages"; "the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel." But the apostle, while laying down what is right, could and did go beyond it in grace, not using it for himself but for Christ wherever His glory called for it. From the poor Macedonian brothers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing.

"And what I am doing I will continue to do, in order to undermine the claim of those who would like to claim that in their boasted mission they work on the same terms as we do" — a cheap boast where men have plenty and need no self-denying devotedness. "For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ."

The motive and reason for going on serving the ungrateful lies in the love itself, not in the people it serves. This is the very character of love, the divine nature. There is nothing self-seeking in it. If his motive is undivided, the most gifted servant will be quite content to be misunderstood and badly repaid as he carries out his service to the Church of God.

In the regions of Achaia, as long as this attitude remained, Paul had settled it: he would not give up this boasting that he received nothing from them. He does not hide his reasons. He shows clearly that they are right. God knew this was not from any lack of love for them: love was in it more than they realized. But he will keep on as he has, to "cut off occasion from them who desire occasion." Some were ready to accuse Paul of selfish motives about money the moment he took anything from the Corinthians. So he would give them not the slightest occasion for it.

There is a sternness of tone in the decision at the close of this passage. At first it may seem out of keeping with the warm language of his love elsewhere in the letter. But there is no real conflict. For love's own sake he had to make that decision and hold to it. The enemies of truth had questioned the purity of his hands and the validity of his apostolic mission, and Corinthian saints had listened to the slander. This plain work of Satan did not chill his eager zeal for them; it stirred it up. So it showed him how important it was to cut off occasion carefully from those who sought occasion.

Later there was another special reason why the apostle would not take money from the Corinthians. False teachers wanted to profit from Paul's work, and they pretended to work for nothing. Paul wanted to take away every occasion of influence from these evil men. They were not to claim something that was not just as true of him.

His true motive he explains. "But what I do I will also do that I may cut off the occasion of those desiring an occasion that wherein they boast they may be found even as we" — a cheap boast where men have plenty and need no self-denying devotedness. "For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of Christ."

In this course he keeps his true character as a minister of God, a witness and servant of the truth. To him, to live was Christ, and he would have the walk of these pretenders tested by the same rule. They boasted loudly, so he would know on what grounds. Was their boasting like his own, in the heart, or only on the lips? Had they come to Corinth as faithful and outstanding ministers of Christ? No — were they, with all their empty claims, ministers of Christ at all? The Corinthian saints were to know, for Paul would act so as to force his rivals to show their true character.

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere, whatever it cost him. In some places he felt free and glad to receive support, from people and from whole assemblies who walked with God in grace and humility. Where the spirit of the world ruled, he held back and would take nothing. The general principle stood: "the labourer deserves his wages"; "the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel." The apostle laid down what is right, yet in grace he could go beyond it, and did. He used the right not for himself but for Christ, wherever His glory called for it. From the poor Macedonian believers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing.

We have to think about foes as well as friends, and they are quick to attack what condemns them. So let us seek to cut off occasion from those who seek occasion, so that even the enemy, whatever kind he is, may have no evil thing to say about us.

They were false apostles, because they had never been sent by the Lord as the true apostles were. They were workers, true enough. But they were deceitful workers, since they turned themselves into what they were not. In this they shared the character of the one they served, and their end will match their deceitful works.

His ironical concessions are now replaced by direct and unsparing denunciation. These grand and all too convincing pretenders are no true shepherds. They are wolves in sheep's clothing. The strength of his language matches the seriousness of the evil he is opposing. Unreal claims are lies by their very nature; and no lie is of the truth — they all have the same parent, the devil. In every attack on the truth there is a power at work below the surface, and it is the office of the Spirit of truth to uncover it and strip off its mask. That Spirit glorifies Jesus.

Complete wickedness can wear a religious dress. That is no wonder, since Satan himself takes the form of an angel of light, and his servants appear as ministers of righteousness. Notice the claims here: superior light and assumed righteousness. They are high, showy claims, but they leave out the cross of Christ, and so the pure grace of God. The whole thing becomes a hollow and deadly sham.

With Satan's own cunning, these men twisted the truth. They preached "another Jesus," "a different spirit," and "a different gospel" (v. 4). The Apostle also saw what was coming. If the churches put up with these evil workers, the Christian circle would lose its simple devotion to Christ. Believers' hearts would be pulled away from true loyalty to Christ. They would follow men who drew disciples after themselves to make themselves great (v. 20). So they pretended to be what they were not. They twisted the truth, corrupted the Christian profession, and lifted themselves up at the cost of others.

They tested the claim of some to be equal with the apostles. They tested it so well that every false claim showed up in the light of the signs that marked out the Lord's apostles (1 Cor. 9; 2 Cor. 11; 12). The word "tried" means tested, or put to the proof (2 Cor. 13:5; 1 John 4:1). "Have found them to be false." These men claimed apostolic office and authority on no ground at all. The test overturned that claim and branded the men themselves as liars — or, as Paul puts it, "false apostles."

The evil ways that soon produced a clergy class were already at work. That class did away even with any claim to gift from Christ, and leaned instead on the made-up claim of apostolic succession. Such men then opposed the apostle in person, as now they oppose his doctrine.

Our only hope of spotting these frauds is to look at what such movements actually do. Do the marks of the Word of God show up in their practice? If not, stay well away from them.

God is light, and Satan is His opposite; his power is the power of darkness, but his craft is the mimicry of light. To corrupt and destroy truth is his unceasing aim, and to do it he takes the form of the very thing he attacks. When Paul calls these false apostles "ministers of Satan," he describes them by the destructive nature of their influence in the church.

The Greek word is more often translated "minister" and "servant" than "deacon." It twice refers to Christ, Romans 15:8; Galatians 2:17. It is used of Paul and others, Colossians 1:7, 23, 25, and of magistrates, Romans 13:4. It is even used of Satan's agents, 2 Corinthians 11:15.

The God of holiness is holy in His ways; and His instruments must match this in character. The truth itself is holy; and those who make it known must do so in a way that shows in their own lives and ways. Satan is the great opposer of truth. He shows his full knowledge of this when, as Paul says, he is transformed for his purpose into an angel of light. "Therefore," he goes on, "it is no small thing if his ministers also are transformed as the ministers of righteousness." Even he sees that the ways must morally suit the end.

High, showy claims to personal holiness usually come from a certain kind of person. They offer to guide others in the way of peace, but they have no true knowledge of the grace of God themselves. They preach themselves and not the cross of Christ. So they deny God's righteousness while trying to set up their own.

Complete wickedness can be dressed in religious clothing. It is nothing to wonder at, since Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light, and his servants as ministers of righteousness. Notice, these are high, pretentious claims — superior light, and assumed righteousness. But they leave out the cross of Christ, and so the pure grace of God. The whole thing becomes a hollow and deadly sham.

They appear as ministers of Christ, but they do not preach Christ. The world wants entertainment, so these men take up the art of entertaining. Even starving souls are caught for a time. They are like Nero. When Rome was starving, he sent to Egypt for shiploads of sand for the arena instead of grain for the hungry people.

Satan, when he comes in as an angel of light, does not send out open evil-doers to recommend his teaching. On the other hand, an evil life may dishonour a preacher of real truth. But a true and needy soul tests the fruit of what is spoken for itself. Such a soul will surely find that the truth has its own witness to the heart and conscience, such as nothing but the truth can have.

They were false apostles, because they had never been sent by the Lord as the true apostles were. They were workers right enough, but deceitful ones, since they transformed themselves into what they were not. In this they shared the character of the one they served, and their end will match their deceitful works.

Copying their master, these false men covered up their evil with a show of good works, as if ministers of righteousness. These ministers of Satan stood against the true minister of Christ. In that we see the beginning of a vast system of corruption.

The apostle has turned aside to warn about false apostles, their high claims and their low reality. Now he comes back again — reluctantly, as we see — to speak of himself, his "folly" as he calls it. In truth no task could be more repulsive to him, for he loved to speak only of Christ and the wonderful grace of God in Him. But what he so much disliked was a necessity... But the Lord's glory was at stake and the saints were in danger; and so he again takes up the disagreeable task.

Turning from the deceivers to the people they had fooled, he throws down his challenge before those who sat as judges of the quarrel. He does object to their contemptuous downgrading of him. But if they must think so poorly of one who once held a very different place in their esteem, let them at least act in a way worthy of themselves. Let the fool have licence to display his folly... His habit, as they well knew, was to glory in the Lord. But now other boasting was in fashion. While he was away, it had largely taken the place once thought due only to the praise of God. So he would also stand among his rivals.

Still, as these men acted in this way, Paul felt he should take up their challenge. If they wanted to run a competition over who had the highest credentials, he would say something more about his. This boasting was all foolishness, but since they had started it he would speak; and again in verse 19 he uses irony. The Corinthians were enriched in all knowledge and so took the place of being wise, and seemed to put up gladly with the fools who boasted so much; for, he says, you do indeed suffer when these boasting men domineer over you and browbeat you as they have been doing.

The false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints. They did it by putting forward their advantages in the flesh: a fine personal presence, power of mind, play of imagination, readiness of speech, rhetorical tricks, independent wealth, family connections, social position, and the like. So he feels it necessary to put forward what God had done through the ability He gave... It is humbling yet instructive to set the apostle's pain at having to speak this way against the obvious pleasure many a servant of Christ takes in telling personal stories. Such stories seem to have no aim but to prove his own cleverness at the expense of poor Mr This or Mr That.

He objects to their thinking him a fool; but if they will not grant him that, "accept me as a fool, so that I too may boast a little." They, being deceitful workers, sought their own glory. The apostle wrote only to deliver the saints from what undermined the Lord and puffed up the flesh... He had ample material and real substance. Still, it was not directly about the Lord, and this tried him, however necessary it was. This seems to be the true meaning. He was not writing as an uninspired man at all. By inspiration he was writing what was painful to a heart wholly devoted to the Lord's glory.

God required it in this case, and His inspiring it keeps it entirely free from exaggeration or undue exalting of a man... It is valuable for our day, when men exalt themselves and claim apostleship or something like it. Measure such a claim against Paul's character, labour and sufferings, and it will collapse in utter shame.

Our strength is not looking back at past experience, though that may sometimes have a place. Our strength is living on Christ now, in the path of God's will. I deny that Paul talks about himself and his experiences, except where he says he is a fool for doing it — they had compelled him.

He had plenty to say, and it was all real. Still, the subject was not directly the Lord, and that tried him, however necessary it was. This seems to be the true meaning. It is not at all that he was writing as an uninspired man. By inspiration he was writing what was painful to a heart wholly devoted to the Lord's glory, yet angry at the trickery of these false ministers, and at how readily many of the believers listened to their hints.

He speaks "not as the Lord would." Yet remember that it is the Lord who tells him to write this way. It is still not the normal way for a Christian, and only extreme conditions would justify it.

But the false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the believers by parading their natural advantages: a fine appearance, mental power, lively imagination, a ready tongue, clever tricks of speech, private wealth, family connections, social standing, and the like. So he feels he must set out what God had done through him, according to the ability God gave him. And not only in spiritual power, but in every kind of labour and suffering for the Lord's sake. It is humbling, and it teaches us, to compare the apostle's pain at having to speak this way with the obvious pleasure many a servant of Christ takes in telling stories about himself.

In the last two verses of the previous chapter he was ready to boast, "but let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord. For it is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord commends." Yet, he adds, "I must boast: you have forced me to it." And the Lord has allowed it for our instruction.

Paul thought it folly to speak about himself and his own work for Christ, and he would far rather have avoided it. But God required it here, and because God inspired it, the account is kept free of exaggeration or of lifting a man up too high… It is valuable for our own day, when men exalt themselves and claim to be apostles or something like it. Measure such a claim by Paul's character, labour and sufferings, and these modern claims collapse in utter shame.

Since they forced him to boast (12:11), he is ready to show what reasons he had for boasting… If these evil teachers had not invaded the Corinthian church, we would never have known about these experiences of the great man of God. The historical record, the book of Acts, does not give us a full account of his devotion and trials. And most likely even this list is not complete.

The apostle had turned aside to warn about false apostles — their big claims and their poor reality. Now he comes back, reluctantly as we see, to speak of himself and his "folly," as he calls it. In truth no task could be more distasteful to him, for he loved to speak only of Christ and the wonderful grace of God in Him. But what he so much disliked was a necessity.

The false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints. They did it by putting forward their fleshly advantages: a fine personal presence, power of mind, play of imagination, readiness of speech, skill with words, independent wealth, family connection, social position, and the like. So he feels he must put forward what God had worked, according to the ability He gave. And this was not only in positive spiritual power. It was in every kind of labour and suffering for the Lord's sake.

Glorying in the flesh is not glorying in sin, but, as in Philippians 3, religious glorying — glorying in something besides Christ.

Because of these deceivers, Paul must speak of himself, though in doing so he feels himself a fool... He speaks "not as the Lord would," yet remember that it is the Lord who requires him to write this way. It is not the normal way for a Christian, and nothing but abnormal conditions would justify it.

He had ample matter and real substance; still it was not directly the Lord, and this tried him, however necessary it might be. This seems to be the true meaning. He was not writing as an uninspired man at all. By inspiration he was writing what was painful to a heart wholly devoted to the Lord's glory.

The false teachers flattered the saints without scruple, as they flattered themselves. The apostle's irony is the most cutting reproof of self-satisfaction. Where the folly really lay was neither doubtful nor hard to find. The man who has Christ for his wisdom can afford to be counted a fool, and to count himself one. That is really the truest wisdom. Those who lift a favourite teacher into the place of Christ miss it completely.

He humbled himself to lift up those whose blessing he sought (verse 7). They lifted up themselves, and did not hesitate to exploit those they claimed to serve. They brought them into bondage. They devoured them by taking their money. They even struck them on the face. Very possibly this striking on the face was not literal, but a rude, haughty way of browbeating them. The Corinthians were thinking in a fleshly way, and the domineering manner of these men had clearly impressed them. Had they been more spiritual they would have seen through it.

Since they compelled him to boast (12:11), he is ready to show what reasons he had for boasting. These teachers who pressed the Jewish law boasted much of being Hebrews, descendants of Abraham. But so was Paul... If it had not been for these evil teachers who had invaded the Corinthian church, we would never have known of these experiences of the great man of God. The historical record, the book of Acts, does not give a full account of his devotedness and trials.

"For you gladly bear with fools, being wise yourselves!" The irony of this passage reaches its height in this verse and the next. He will not hand his cause over to foolish judges. Nor would he play the fool just to please other people. But these Corinthians were surely wise! Had they not shown their wisdom in many striking ways? Patience and forbearance are sure marks of wisdom. They had shown these qualities to a remarkable degree in their dealings with the guides who were strangers to them. They might well then bear with Paul too.

Since these men acted this way, Paul felt he should take up their challenge. If they wanted a competition over who had the best credentials, he would say a little more about his. This boasting was all foolishness, but since they had started it he would speak, and again in verse 19 he uses irony. The Corinthians were rich in all knowledge and so took the place of being wise. They seemed to bear happily with the fools who boasted so much. But, he says, you do indeed suffer. These boasting men domineer over you and browbeat you, as they have been doing.

The false teachers flattered the saints without scruple, just as they flattered themselves. The apostle's irony is the most cutting rebuke of self-satisfaction. Where the folly really lay was neither doubtful nor hard to find. The man who has Christ for his wisdom can afford to be counted a fool, and to count himself one. That is the truest wisdom. Those who lift a favourite teacher into the place of Christ miss it completely. They even call such degrading and dangerous folly by the name of obedience. Among the Jews, to say "there is no God" was to be a fool in the worst sense of the word. Among Christians, real folly is to set the servant above the Master in practice, and to give the servant the honour due only to Him.

Nor can any sight be more remarkable than the way the flesh shows itself in these circumstances. The same saints who resisted the authority of a true apostle gave complete submission to false ones... Many at Corinth had sunk to that degradation, hugging chains they could not see. The flesh is blind as well as foolish. It loves its own things, not the things of Jesus Christ. It likes a director of its faith and duty — not a conscience in God's presence, subject to the word. It submits to bondage to man, if it is allowed some licence in return. It never really knows or enjoys liberty in the Spirit.

Because of these deceivers, Paul must speak about himself, though in doing so he feels himself a fool. But he asks the Corinthians not to think of him that way, since his reasons for speaking like this are obvious. Yet if they do think it, they still ought to bear with his speaking for a little at least, for they had done so with false apostles! He says he speaks "not as the Lord would." Yet remember that it is the Lord who has him write this way. Even so, this is not the normal way for a Christian, and only abnormal conditions would justify it.

Their spirit was the exact opposite of Paul's. He lowered himself to lift up those whose blessing he wanted (verse 7). They exalted themselves, and they had no qualms about exploiting the very people they claimed to serve. They brought them into bondage, they devoured them by getting their money, they even struck them in the face. Perhaps the striking on the face was not literal. It may have meant treating them rudely and arrogantly — browbeating them, as we would say. The Corinthians were thinking in a fleshly way, and it seems these men's domineering manner had impressed them. Had they been more spiritual they would have seen through it.

Of the five proofs listed here of their unworthy tolerance, the first is also the most shameful. By the grace of the Lord Jesus they had been freed from every yoke but His, and now, like the foolish Galatians, they were again wanting to be in bondage (Galatians 4:9). They forgot their true standing in the nearness of the Spirit. They took teachers of law as their guides, and were now reaping the fruit of their own choice. Instead of the true liberty of Christ, they were in bondage to the will of men. Wherever someone adds law to the gospel, man takes God's place.

It seems these false teachers were quite brazen. It is remarkable what people will put up with from what is false — far more than they will endure from what is true. What is false pleases the flesh. Take any system: it is surprising how quickly people learn a system. And you will always find that people learn Satan's teaching much faster than God's.

The same believers who chafed under the authority of a true apostle gave full submission to false ones. Such was the degradation many at Corinth had fallen into. They hugged chains they could not see; for the flesh is blind as well as foolish, and loves its own things, not the things of Jesus Christ. It likes a director of faith and duty — not a conscience in God's presence, subject to the word. It will accept bondage to man, as long as it gets some licence now and then. It never really knows or enjoys liberty in the Spirit. What bows down to a human priest or pope is not faith and power, but the lack of them. The history of the Christian world since then only fills out the picture the apostle has drawn of what Satan had done to some extent at Corinth.

Paul had done none of this. Yet in the name of religion people will accept such treatment, and think they are more spiritual because they submit to it. But the flesh always despises the true liberty of grace.

In Paul's day there were men who aimed at power and authority. They brought believers into bondage, devoured them, took from them, exalted themselves and struck others in the face. Such men were false apostles and deceitful workers — see 2 Corinthians 11:13-20. There are people around in our day who assert their dominion in the same way, and we do well to beware of them. The Lord sets Himself before us as the Son of Man. He came not to be served but to serve, though He had every right to be served.

Yet, he adds, "I must boast: you have forced me to it"; and the Lord has allowed it for our instruction. He speaks of the reproach thrown at him — as though he had been weak — for some had said that "his bodily presence is weak, and his speech of no account." Here we have a wonderful picture of Paul's life, telling what it really was.

It was the apostle's glory to be weak so that the power of Christ might rest on him. His adversaries turned this into a reproach against him, and he bowed to it. He was far from putting on that high spirit which impresses ordinary people who are used to it in the world. Such a manner is always prized by the fleshly mind. He was pained and ashamed to speak of his own affairs, however true and blessed they were, while his adversaries paraded their advantages with the utmost vanity, however petty or worthless those were in comparison.

We were weak, and no doubt still are. In fact, when we were among you we cared so little about asserting our official dignity (I speak, remember, as a fool) that we kept ourselves in the background all the time. If we had presented Christ less and ourselves more, as these new men have done, you might still be at our feet. It is the strong who take the spoil. Yet we can hardly regret the loss, since the strength we then refused to use may serve us in the contest we now invite. Since these men are bold, I will hold back no longer, but (though in foolishness) be bold too.

But if others boasted according to the flesh, he could do so too, and they would have no ground for complaint. After all, they gladly put up with fools who brought them into bondage to man, preyed on them, took their money, and exalted themselves while insulting others. Not to act as these men had acted might appear to be mere weakness on his part. However, if they thought him weak, he would show them that he could be bold. He still thinks that speaking of himself is foolishness.

And this is only the outward part of what he calls his "folly" — that is, speaking of himself instead of Christ. His critics at Corinth forced it out of him. But what a life of love such sufferings show! What devotion to Him who had appointed him a herald and apostle and teacher!

We are not saying that the servant of Christ should never speak of what the Lord may have done through him in the way of blessing. There are times when he may profitably do so. We do say, however, that credentials are another matter. When the point is to produce facts that prove beyond all question that someone is a genuine servant of Christ, the record of his sufferings is far more convincing. A power other than the Spirit of God can produce signs and wonders. Nothing but absolute devotion to the Lord will keep someone serving with patient persistence through years of toil and suffering.

Verse 22 shows that these false apostles boasted about their Jewish descent. This, with verse 15, would mark them as Judaizers, set on bringing souls into bondage to themselves. But as to Jewish blood, they were no different from Paul.

The men who opposed the apostle took pride in the flesh, and boasted of their Jewish descent. A ruling clergy class, and corrupt church systems, tend to do the same — in effect, even where the claim is not one of literal birth as it is here. They knew that the apostle turned every eye to Christ in heaven, dead and risen. Yet they seem to have forgotten how easily he could set aside such claims to be superior.

In the New Testament the term appears only in Acts 6:1, where it marks off the Greek-speaking Jews from those of Palestine, and in 2 Corinthians 11:22 and Philippians 3:5, which speak of Paul's ancestors. There, to answer the objections of the Judaising teachers, he calls himself a Hebrew of the Hebrews — one whose line held no Gentile blood, and none from converts to Judaism.

This verse names three related titles. The first is only about the old superiority of the Hebrew over the Greek — of the nation which had the Lord for their God, over the Gentiles, who served worthless idols. The second points to the special covenant blessings that belong for ever to all who truly are of Israel. The third points to the line of faith. On each of them the apostle simply states his own claim. In all these respects he was at least their equal.

The three names rise to a climax. The first is the outward title of the chosen nation, the second the inward name, and the third the name by which they inherited the promises. Yet he claims each one for himself in words so short that they galled his boastful rivals. Compared with Christ this was low ground, and the apostle, treating it with little respect, turns to a higher claim.

Still, since these men acted in this way, Paul felt he should take up their challenge. If they wanted a contest over who had the highest credentials, he would say a little more about his own. This boasting was all foolishness, but since they had started it he would speak.

The man who has Christ for his wisdom can afford to be called a fool, and to call himself one. That is the truest wisdom. Those who lift a favourite teacher into the place of Christ miss it completely.

But on the second matter he does not say, "So am I." He says, "I am more," for he far outshone them. Some translate his phrase "I above measure so," since there was no comparison between them. And he goes on to speak, not of the triumphs he had won, but of the sufferings he had endured.

Boasting was not the way of the Lord. Boasting in the Lord is what suits every believer, and the apostle shrank from boasting in anything else, perhaps more than any other man. But the false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints. They put forward their fleshly advantages: a fine personal presence, power of mind, ready speech, rhetorical tricks, wealth, family connection, social position, and the like. It is humbling yet instructive to set two things side by side. There is the apostle's pain at having to speak this way. And there is the all too obvious pleasure with which many a servant of Christ goes off into personal stories that seem to have no aim but to prove his own cleverness.

He allows, for a moment, the claim he had already firmly refused. He supposes that, if they are ministers of Christ at all, they must have some proof of their calling to produce. Then he sets his own acts and monuments of service above theirs in every respect. He has scars to show, as a good soldier of Christ, and he will show them.

When it is a question of your credentials, of producing facts that prove beyond all question that you are a genuine servant of Christ, then the record of your sufferings is far more convincing. Signs and wonders may come from a power other than the Spirit of God. Nothing but absolute devotion to the Lord will keep someone serving with patient persistence through years of toil and suffering.

The commentators, ancient and modern, will have it to be a comparison. This is the very thing he seems to take pains to avoid… He does not even mention here the extraordinary power the Lord had given him in the Spirit to deal with disease, death, or demons. He says nothing of the wide reach and success of his work in the gospel. Instead he turns from his very abundant labours to the stripes he suffered beyond measure, his very abundant imprisonments, and his frequent exposures to death.

Think of the indignity. A man of Paul's position and learning is stripped bare. The horrible lashes fall on his back till it is a mass of torn and bleeding flesh. Five times, not once, the Jews gave him forty lashes less one. Three times he was beaten with rods. What a condition his body must have been in!

If these evil teachers had not invaded the Corinthian church, we would never have known these experiences of the great man of God. The historical record, the Book of Acts, does not give us a full account of his devotion and his trials. And most likely even this list is not complete.

Paul refers to the great riot at Ephesus, recorded in Acts 19. This was one of the times he was near death. God came in for his deliverance, but the whole episode brought home "the sentence of death" in his own experience. He realized indeed that he was a dead man, and all trust in himself was gone.

Explanation is hardly what is needed here. What is needed is thanksgiving for the grace God gave to a man with the same nature as ours, when the eye surveys such a roll of suffering labour for Christ… What we read may well humble us. It puts our lukewarmness to shame.

He does not even mention here the extraordinary power the Lord had given him in the Spirit to deal with disease, death, or demons. He says nothing of the immense range and success of his work in the gospel. Instead he turns from his very abundant labours to the excess of stripes that had fallen to him. He points to his very frequent imprisonments and his repeated exposure to death.

In the law courts the judges had to give proper justice, yet not go beyond the limits of justice. If someone was guilty of a serious crime, it was right to have him beaten, lying down. But he was never to receive more than forty strokes. The Jews at least respected this particular law, for they lowered the number to 39 in case they had miscounted. But they treated Paul as they would the worst criminal.

For minor offences there was flogging, which was restricted to forty stripes (Deuteronomy 25:3). A whip with three thongs accounts for the "forty stripes less one" of 2 Corinthians 11:24.

Paul admitted that when he was persecuting the church, he had imprisoned and beaten those who believed on the Lord. He did it in every synagogue (Acts 22:19). Paul himself doubtless suffered the same punishment in the same buildings (2 Corinthians 11:24). So they made a very undignified use of their places of worship.

As you might expect, his chief troubles came at the hands of his own people. That persecuting zeal was a poison. It had once found its most energetic instrument in Saul of Tarsus, who in tireless hatred of the way of truth breathed out threats and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord. Now it was reacting on himself, and weaving for him (such is the grace of our Lord!) a crown of lasting honour, as an approved martyr of the faith he had once destroyed.

Five times from the Jews he received forty stripes less one — 195 stripes given in five doses.

Three separate disasters of this kind are mentioned here, and history tells us nothing about them. That may convince us how incomplete our record is — though it is enough — of what this much-enduring man went through as he finished his course. But the day of rewards will reveal it all.

Besides that, the Lord had to fulfil His word to Ananias about the apostle: "For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name" (Acts 9:16). Without suffering here there can be little spiritual power for entering into the glory set before us... So the apostle's work in the gospel was one long series of bitter persecutions, especially from the Jews.

If this point of comparison is raised, then Paul's folly must go beyond itself. If comparing himself with others at all is unwise, he must seem even more senseless in his boasting when he claims victory over all competitors. And he does no less when he offers his judges these memorials of his service. He has scars to show, as a good soldier of Christ, and he will show them. Some of these facts are confirmed by other testimony, and the rest we may accept on his own word, since his bold challenge was never answered.

This was a punishment inflicted by the Romans. They stripped the person, stretched him out with cords or straps on a frame, and beat him with a whip or a rod. From about 300 B.C. Roman citizens were exempt from scourging. Paul used this privilege when he was about to be "examined" under this punishment (Acts 22:24-29). But he was beaten with rods three times (2 Corinthians 11:25). The Lord Himself suffered the pain and shame of scourging (John 19:1).

"Rods," which were a Gentile punishment, also came to him in full measure. One of the three times mentioned here is told at length in its proper place, and there he did not suffer alone. It stands to the praise of the glory of that grace, which then shone so clearly in both Paul and his companion in trouble. At midnight in the prison, with their feet in chains and their wounds unwashed, they sang God's praises through His Son (Acts 16).

Once his persecutors arrived in Lystra, they persuaded the people that Paul was not fit to live. So they stoned him. Surely he would remember the day when he helped to stone Stephen. Look at the unconscious body of the apostle as it lay on the ground, blood streaming from many wounds. Paul could not forget that day. "Once I was stoned" (2 Corinthians 11:25) was his comment to the Corinthian church.

He had been shipwrecked three times. One of those times involved a night and a day in the deep. We suppose that means he was washed about in the waters of the Mediterranean. But the shipwreck recorded in Acts 27 had not yet taken place. That must therefore have been number four, at least.

Whether swimming or held up by boards, the shock of such an experience would not easily be forgotten. Practically all of his journeys were far more dangerous than travel today.

As far as the record given to us in Scripture is concerned, he stands alone among the people of God in his sufferings. An Abraham, a Moses, a David, a Daniel — each had their own special marks that showed they pleased God. But not one of them approached Paul in this. Hard labour, beatings, prisons, brushes with death, constant travel, dangers of every kind, weariness, pain, sleepless nights, hunger, thirst, going without food, cold, no clothing, care — what a list! It covers pretty well the whole range of human suffering, whether of body or mind.

Paul stood firm through all these things. His endurance should have made a deep impression on the Corinthians, and it should impress us no less. … Notice that he is not boasting of what people would call great achievements. He boasts instead in the things that humble him. All of this shows him to be helplessly dependent on the Living God, who proves Himself completely faithful in caring for His servant.

It is not only enduring cruel treatment now and then from open enemies that tests the heart. The heart is shown even more by the tireless, constant going out from country to country, whatever the labour and the danger. He went among strangers whom the Jews could easily stir up, once the Jews themselves were inflamed at the gospel. Add to that the many trials of the road.

His journeys were not for his own pleasure. On his Master's service he never gave up time for the sake of comfort, and he never shrank from the path in front of him out of any fear for himself. He was glad to follow the Spirit's leading, even when it brought him to his goal by dangerous and rarely used roads. From the floods and the robbers alike the Lord was his sole but effective defence.

His walk as one who confessed Christ's name was so clear and definite that he lived in constant danger from his own race and from the Gentiles, and almost equally from each. That was true quite apart from the particular cases of ill-treatment noticed above. In the city, men watched him on every side. They dreaded and hated his work, and they thirsted for his blood without stopping. In the desert, the natural dangers and hardships were worse for a man who could no longer count on people being friendly.

The word means "robber, bandit." In the parable of the Good Samaritan the traveller fell among robbers (Luke 10:30, 36). When the Lord was arrested He asked if they had come out as against a robber (Matthew 26:55; Mark 14:48; Luke 22:52). The two criminals crucified with the Lord were also men of this character.

First, he says they were false. They were traitors. They were not true believers in Christ at all. On the outside they had accepted Christianity. But they knew nothing of the power of the precious blood of Christ to cleanse their sins... They were, in Paul's words, "false brothers." This word is used only twice in the New Testament — there and in 2 Corinthians 11:26. Someone had brought these false brothers in secretly, without the other believers knowing.

Besides the dangers common to everyone who travelled — water travel, robbers and so on — there were dangers that came from his witness for Christ. Some came from Jewish opposition and hatred. Some came from Gentile resentment, as at Ephesus. And Satan added his own subtle attacks through false brothers. Paul's steadfast endurance through all of this should have deeply impressed the Corinthians, and it should impress us no less.

The record that follows goes far beyond the history we have in Acts, which was only a sample of much more. He had met dangers of every kind: from enemies, from false brothers, from his own countrymen, from strangers, in crowds of people, in desolate wilderness places, and dangers from what men call accidents.

If we in our day were more energetic and more faithful in our service for the Lord Jesus, we should doubtless know more of all three things.

Boasting was not the way of the Lord. Boasting in the Lord is what suits every believer, and the apostle shrank from boasting in anything else, perhaps more than any other man. But the false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints. They pushed forward their human advantages: a fine appearance, power of mind, a lively imagination, ready speech, tricks of rhetoric, money of their own, family connections, social position, and the like.

μόχθος (mochthos, from μογέω, "to labour, be in distress") occurs three times in the New Testament. Some have judged that it means the toil that is the lot of man in this world of sin. It answers to "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread." Paul's own use seems to confirm this. Twice he uses it of his labours, when he had to work night and day on top of his apostolic work (1 Thess. 2:9; 2 Thess. 3:8). In 2 Cor. 11:27 it is joined with κόπος (kopos), where Paul describes his life of labour and toil — "weariness and painfulness" in older versions.

In 2 Corinthians "fasting" is set apart from "hunger and thirst" — suffering he chose, as against suffering he could not avoid. No. The apostle's "labours, watchings, fastings" had to do with the gospel and the church, and with individual souls. They stood far above the circumstances of his trade, good or bad.

On top of danger came hardships, both chosen and unchosen. He disciplined himself as a matter of habit, while serving Christ as a true soldier laid constant hardship on his body. For Christ's sake he spent many nights awake. Often, while less eager but genuine fellow-workers were at ease, he was hungry and burning with thirst. Robbers may have taken his few clothes; or he may have been too poor — while making many rich — to buy himself a coat. Either way he came very near his Master (Matt. 8:20) in knowing what it is to have nothing.

Added to all the dangers the apostle met were many and frequent discomforts… Who would welcome such a life? But he endured it willingly for Christ… Notice, though, that he is not boasting of what people would call great achievements. He boasts in the things that humble the vessel… All of this shows him to be helplessly dependent on the living God, who proves Himself completely faithful in caring for His servant.

Paul spoke truly of his own ministry in the gospel, carried on in toil and hardship, sleepless nights, hunger and thirst, times without food, cold and exposure (2 Cor. 11:27). But in all these respects he was only an imperfect imitator of the self-denying service of Christ. Like his Master, though, he was kept going in his devotion by that secret food which the world knows nothing of (John 4:31-34).

This was not by any means a complete account. Anxiety for all the assemblies is the explanation added to that daily care which pressed on the apostle.

"The care of all the churches" (v. 28) is not the taking care of them, but care for them, as now for Corinth. It is wonderful to see the power of the apostle. He could take up all the highest doctrines and yet go into detail about all these other things. In us the tendency is to get weary when we see one or two gatherings going wrong.

If his outward trials and afflictions were both heavy and abundant, there were others of a still more painful kind… His outward trials were hard, but they left his mind untroubled, though his flesh might shrink or tremble. Personal danger or physical suffering could not take away his spirit's rest. He could sing at midnight in his chains, with his wounds unwashed. But anxiety about his brothers and sisters filled him with dismay.

The most wearing sufferings of all were, we venture to think, those he speaks of last — the care of all the churches. He had to bear with the weakness of the weak. He had to listen again and again to the complaints of the offended, correct the foolishness of believers, and contend for the truth against false brothers. All this must have been the most testing thing of all. Yet he did it.

"The care of all the churches!" Was he reaching beyond his measure in claiming a charge that covered them all? Love knows no limits, while duty keeps faithfully to its own path.

A man of trust must also be a man of care. Great indeed was the honour attached to his office. He bore it without complaint, in the sustaining strength of Him who does not faint and is not weary. He did not ask to be freed from it: it was his burden, but it was also his glory. Yet it lay on him day after day. These thoughtless, self-satisfied Corinthians hardly dreamed of its weight. Mark well the difference, for our own practice, between two things. One is true godly care and concern about the things of Christ, rooted in faith. The other is a false-hearted carelessness that throws away the sense of personal responsibility, under the excuse of casting all its burdens on the Lord.

There was "the care of all the churches." There were the weak. There were those who gave offence and those who took it. These things pressed in on him daily. The churches were not little paradises, even when Paul was among them. Too often nowadays when people find something not right in a meeting, they run away. Paul did not run away; he prayerfully set himself to meet the difficulty.

Paul's real anxiety, his watchfulness and care for the Church, brought him into much difficulty and conflict. He passed many a sleepless night because he cared for it so… In us there can be no true energy of love in the Spirit towards one believer apart from the rest. We shall find ourselves connected with all saints. Christ loves all saints. If we shut up our love to one, or even to a set number — it does not matter how many — we shut ourselves into narrowness of spirit. We lose part of the largeness of Christian love.

Anxiety for all the assemblies is the explanation of that care day by day which pressed on the apostle. And of this he gives us a sample. "Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is stumbled, and I burn not?" If they were badly troubled by over-scrupulous consciences, he could and did enter into their difficulties. If the unworthy behaviour of others tripped anyone up, his soul was on fire. He was filled with love for Christ and the saints, and he hated selfishness and party spirit thoroughly.

The most wearing sufferings of all were, we venture to think, those he speaks of last — the care of all the churches. He had to bear with the feebleness of the weak. He had to listen again and again to the complaints of the offended, to correct the foolishness of saints, and to contend for the truth against false brothers. All this must have been the most testing thing of all. Yet he did it.

It is wonderful to see the power of the apostle. He could take up all the highest doctrines and yet go into detail about all these other things. We see an astonishing flexibility of power. He has a power to generalise and a power to individualise, and he never tires of using them. In us the tendency is to get weary when we see one or two gatherings going wrong. Verse 29 is sympathy with the saints.

The Lord and Head of His body the church is the gracious and untiring bearer of His people's burdens. In the same way, this chosen servant had received a quickness of sympathy and a steadfastness of patient love. It made him a fellow-sufferer with all who had a right to complain, and the one who really comforted them. His heart was wholly in the work he lived for; so indifference to any harm that touched Christ in His members was impossible for him... And such questions were sure to shame those who claimed to be pastors by superior right. They fed only themselves and preyed on the flock of God.

His faithful heart entered into the sorrowful condition of his poor brothers. He was rightly indignant with their oppressors. So Paul at a later date exclaimed, "Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is offended, and I burn not?" In both cases, Nehemiah's anger and Paul's sympathy identified them with the sorrows of God's people. Both were reflections, however faint, of the heart of God Himself.

The churches were not little paradises, even when Paul was among them. Too often nowadays when people find something not right in a meeting, they run away. Paul did not run away; he prayerfully set himself to meeting the difficulty.

If there was weakness among the saints, he felt it as his own... He is not boasting of what people would call great achievements. He boasts instead in the things that humble the servant. All of this shows how dependent he was on the Living God. God proves Himself absolutely faithful in caring for His servant. How totally unlike the assumed dignity of false apostles!

He could not defend the ministry of Christ, which was under attack, without speaking of himself and his service. And how could he speak of these things to unfriendly ears without seeming to boast? ... Boasting was not the way of the Lord. Boasting in the Lord is what suits every believer, and the apostle shrank, perhaps more than any other man, from boasting in anything else. But the false apostles were dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints. They put forward their advantages in the flesh: a fine personal presence, power of mind, imagination, ready speech, clever rhetoric, an independent fortune, family connection, social position, and the like.

He will speak of things that marked him out even more clearly as a chosen vessel of the Master. But those same things would also prove, in his own person, that all self-commendation counts for nothing in the sight of God. He will boast of what men are ashamed of — a demonstration, that is, of his weakness.

No doubt it was a remarkable escape at the start of his ministry. But it was the last thing a man seeking his own glory would have repeated and recorded for ever. No angels came to open the bars and bolts of massive doors, or to blind the eyes of the soldiers on guard. The apostle was let down in a basket through a window in the city wall. He truly gloried, not in the great deeds or sayings of his ministry, but in his weakness and the Lord's grace.

He does not speak of his mighty miraculous powers, or even of the revelations he had received. In these things, as an apostle, he stood alone. He boasts instead of the things that concern his infirmities — things in which others can share in their small measure. ... So if others boasted in their gifts, their knowledge and their excellent speech, he could glory in his infirmities and weaknesses. These became the occasion for displaying the power of God, who can keep and use His servant despite all weakness and in the middle of the most distressing circumstances.

The basket must have been a big one to hold a full-grown man — the sort you often see filled with dirty washing! A few years before he had been the proudest of the proud Pharisees of Jerusalem, and now he has come down to this! He himself writes that he "was let down in a basket." But do not miss the contrast that meets us as soon as we read on into 2 Corinthians 12. The man who was "let down" on earth was "caught up" to the third heaven.

Our glorying in our position in Christ is right. ... When I think of my place in Christ, of the "man in Christ," we ought to glory in such a one. This is no presumption. ... Let no pretended humility rob us of this. It is legalism. But of myself, of what I know myself to be as a man down here, I cannot glory. The one exception is my sufferings for Christ, and the infirmities of every kind that go with them. They serve to put the flesh down, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

He is about to recount his first recorded danger for the gospel's sake. That finishes the long commendation of his ministry by tracing it and its effects back to the beginning. So he makes this solemn appeal — not only to press his words on their attention, but as one ashamed even of the appearance of self-centred boasting. He would hide his "folly" from their eyes beneath the glorious majesty of that great Name. Let others judge him; he still has this last appeal. From that Presence he was sure his verdict would at last come out in triumph.

It was characteristic of Paul to invest facts, even minor ones, with the weight and sanction of that name, if they stood in any relation to his service as an apostle. In this, as in every other respect, he presented a bright and living contrast to the false apostles whose confidence and dignity came from themselves.

God is blessed as "the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ". He is the God, when our Lord Jesus Christ is looked at as man. He is the Father, when He is viewed as Son of God. In Christ, Christians are brought into these very relationships. The Lord Himself said so when risen from the dead: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."

No doubt it was a remarkable escape at the beginning of his ministry. But it was the last thing a man seeking his own glory would have repeated and recorded for ever. No angelic visitors opened the bars and bolts of massive doors. None blinded the eyes of the garrison. The apostle was let down in a basket through a window in the city wall. Truly he gloried, not in the great deeds or sayings of his ministry, but in his weakness and the Lord's grace.

Now he closes this subject with a most precious witness to God's tender grace. In these verses there is nothing in which the flesh may boast. There is no great display of power by a mighty apostle. Instead he depends on the help of disciples to let him down in a basket. That was God's way of preserving, yet humbling, His devoted servant.

I think it is very striking that you have a reference to that letting down in a basket in the eleventh chapter of Second Corinthians. The twelfth chapter then gives the record of his being taken up into glory. There things are unfolded to him that a man cannot put into words. Paul had nothing but weakness here, so that he had to get out of the city in a basket, let down from the wall. Yet he was caught up into glory, to see what was really his, and really ours. Then, when he comes down from that height, the Lord explains to him how it is that he is not to be allowed strength of his own. It is so that Christ's strength may be for him, and that strength is made perfect in weakness.

If the Apostle has to boast, he does not speak of his mighty miraculous powers. He does not even speak of the revelations he had received. In those things he stood alone as an apostle. He boasts instead of the things that concern his infirmities — things in which it is possible for others to share in their little measure. So if others boasted in their gifts, their knowledge and their fine speech, he could glory in his infirmities and weaknesses. These became the occasion of displaying the power of God. God can keep and use His servant despite all weakness, and in the middle of the most distressing circumstances.

No doubt it was a remarkable escape at the beginning of his ministry. But it was the last thing a man who sought his own glory would have told again and put on record for ever. No angel came to open the bars and bolts of massive doors. No angel blinded the eyes of the guards. The apostle was let down in a basket through a window in the city wall. He gloried, not in the great deeds or sayings of his ministry, but in his weakness and the Lord's grace.

In the New Testament there are three Greek words used: sarganē, "a hamper," in which Paul was let down by the wall, 2 Cor. 11:33, though Acts 9:25 uses a different word for the same event, spuris, which also means "a hamper."

The basket must have been a big one to hold a full-grown man — the sort you often see filled with dirty washing! A few years before he had been the proudest of the proud Pharisees of Jerusalem, and now he has come down to this! He himself writes, "I was let down in a basket."

It is very striking that the letting down in a basket comes in the eleventh chapter of Second Corinthians. The twelfth chapter then records how he was caught up into glory. There things were opened to him that a man cannot put into words. Here Paul had nothing but weakness, so that he had to get out of the city in a basket, let down from the wall. Yet he was caught up into glory, to see there what was really his, and really ours. Then, when he comes down from that height, the Lord explains why He will not let him have strength of his own. It is so that Christ's strength may be for him, and that strength is made perfect in weakness.

Notice he does not speak of himself as Paul; this is very blessed. If he has anything humbling to say of himself, he speaks of Paul. He will say, "I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall." There was nothing very elevating to a man in that. It was a humbling position, so he says "I." But the moment he comes to speak of what is elevating, it is no longer "I." It is "a man in Christ" — which is true of every Christian. "I know a man in Christ."

It may be worth noting the extra information in 2 Cor. 11:32-33. The hostility he met was not confined to the synagogue. The governor under the king at that time shared in it, no doubt to do the Jews a favour, as others in a similar position did later on. The point of quoting this is not to confirm the truth of Luke's account, as if the inspired word of God could be inaccurate, or as if a believer needed such support. It is to give a fresh instance of the moral purpose that governs all Scripture.

"I know a man in Christ": not "I knew," as the older Authorised Version so strangely misunderstands. Even in the way the apostle puts it, he shuts out personal boasting. He does this so thoroughly that even our translators seem to have thought he was speaking not of himself but of some other man.

Notice he does not speak of himself as Paul; this is very blessed. If he has anything humbling to say about himself, he speaks of Paul. He will say, "I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall." There was nothing very elevating for a man in that. It was a humbling position, so he says "I." But the moment he comes to speak of what is elevating, it is no longer "I," it is "a man in Christ" — which is true of every Christian.

Faith does not boast of visions and revelations of the Lord, any more than of its doings… So David said not a word about the lion and the bear God enabled him to kill at his lowly work. He spoke only when it was needed to calm the fears of others, for God's glory. In the same way, the apostle waited many years before he told of a wonderful experience. Others less spiritual would have talked about it everywhere for as many years or more. What would the Corinthians or their misleaders not have made of it?

The one who had known what it was to be "let down" in a basket on earth had also known the immense privilege of being "caught up to the third heaven." The third heaven speaks of the dwelling place of God. First come the heavens of the air, then the starry heavens, and then the third heavens, where the throne of God is. The Apostle speaks of the third heavens as paradise. That shows how blessed they are: a scene of joy, beauty and glory, a garden of delights, where no shadow of death will ever come.

He identifies being caught up to "the third heaven" with being caught up into "Paradise." It is the highest view of heaven that Scripture gives. It leaves no room for the empty dream that sends a soul to some lower holding place because it has not yet gained the fitness to share the inheritance of the saints in light.

The wonderful experience was his, though he was not sure what his condition was when he had it. This shows us in passing that the "falling asleep" of a believer does not mean the sleep of the soul. Suppose the death of a believer meant total unconsciousness until the coming of the Lord. Then the Apostle would have had no uncertainty. He would have said, "I must have been in the body, for I was conscious. If I had been out of the body, I would have had no consciousness at all."

Of this Paul — of what he knew himself to be down here — he would not boast. But he had been given the enjoyment of his place as a man in Christ, with everything else set aside as far as his awareness went. Of such a one he would boast. And so can we. We may never have been in the third heaven, so we may never have grasped the full glory and privileges of the position we are brought into. Yet we are men in Christ. We have known enough of that blessing to rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory — and the feeblest saint who knows his place in Christ has known enough.

The words "in Christ" matter, because they take him out of himself. In himself he will not boast, but of such a man he will boast. It really was Paul, but he will not admit that it was himself, because he cannot tell whether he was in the body or out of the body. He did not have the ordinary awareness of the senses. He perceives these things now, but at the time he did not know how he knew or saw any of it.

The moment he speaks of something that lifts him up, it is no longer "I," it is "a man in Christ" — which is true of every Christian.

He does not know whether it was in the body. He does not know whether it was out of the body. He says this twice, and surely for a reason. He does not want us to dwell on the circumstances, or on the exact part a miracle played in it. We tend to pull back from the miraculous, since we do not expect miracles, but he leaves the question open. He likely thought little of himself, drawn out of himself by the power of what was given to him.

The third heaven is the very highest blessedness a creature can enter — paradise. In Luke 23:43 a redeemed soul, apart from the body, is received there after the Saviour's death. Here in 2 Corinthians a living believer is taken up to paradise, and the apostle could not tell whether he went in the body or out of the body. We ought to be very thankful for this, since many today deny eternal judgment and laugh at the idea of any consciousness out of the body. If they were right, how could Paul say he did not know whether he was "in the body, or out of the body"?

The third heaven speaks of the dwelling place of God. There are the atmospheric heavens, then the starry heavens, and then the third heavens, where the throne of God is. The Apostle speaks of the third heavens as paradise. That shows how blessed a place it is: a scene of joy, beauty and glory — a garden of delights, where no shadow of death will ever come.

Some writers believe that Paradise is in the heart of the earth and has two compartments, one for believers and the other for unbelievers. This idea has no foundation in Scripture. 2 Corinthians 12:2 and 4 identifies Paradise with "the third heaven" — the immediate dwelling place of God, while Revelation 2:7 speaks of it as "the Paradise OF GOD," where the tree of life is.

Every Christian is a man in Christ, but not every Christian is "caught up into paradise." The first is the true standing of every Christian; the second is a possible experience for a Christian. None of us have been caught up as Paul was. That was something special to him alone.

Paul certainly had the wonderful experience he describes so vividly. But he puts it in a way meant to show any "man in Christ" that in substance this is his privilege too, as it was Paul's own in actual fact by a miracle. And the man whose work it was to make known God's purposes about Christ and His own for heaven was allowed to hear these things, so that all who are in Christ might know their portion through such a chosen witness.

The apostle identifies being caught up to "the third heaven" with being caught up into "Paradise." It is the highest view of heaven that Scripture shows us, and it leaves no room for an idle dream. Some imagine that a soul must first go to some lower holding place, because it is not yet fit to share the inheritance of the saints in light. But Colossians 1:12 teaches that God has already given this fitness by grace to all believers here.

Paradise is a Greek word, used of an enclosed garden or pleasure park. In the New Testament it describes the present place of believers who are out of the body (Luke 23:43; 2 Corinthians 12:4). It also describes their future place of bliss, where the tree of life will stand (Revelation 2:7). Paul clearly distinguishes it from the third heaven. He was caught up to, or as far as, the third heaven where God dwells. He was caught up into paradise, where believers out of the body now are. There he heard what he could not pass on to people on earth.

Then he heard "words not possible for a man to utter." "Possible" is the word, rather than "lawful." He means this: as soon as he came back to the awareness of being in the body, he found he had no way to communicate. No words could express the greatness of what he had seen. And so it is — the deeper a thing is in our souls, the greater the difficulty we find in speaking of it. We cannot convey to another the sense, the impression, of what we have received for ourselves.

Note the contrast between Moses' long stay on the mountain and Paul's brief stay in the third heaven, whether in the body or out of it. God commanded Moses to give the people what he heard and saw. Paul heard "unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter." The gospel will in the end put us in touch with wonders that no one can reveal to us while we are in our mortal bodies. Our language has no words to express them.

Paul did not receive a revelation in the third heavens to pass it on to others. On the contrary, he went there to hear mysteries which it is not lawful for a man to utter. He went there to experience the presence of God, and to draw his strength from it. When the eye of faith enters God's presence, it finds communion there, and strength to walk before Him in every circumstance.

Notice how he speaks of himself here. His own name, whether Saul or Paul, drops out. He is simply "a man in Christ" — a description that applies to every true believer. Such a person has a new life, drawn from a new source — not Adam but Christ. In the power of that life he stands before God in a new place, Christ's own place.

Once he was back in the awareness of his human life on earth, the apostle's flesh would have used the favour he had enjoyed to exalt him in his own eyes. It would say, "None have been in the third heaven but you, Paul." To be near God in the glory, out of the body, does not puff a man up. All is Christ, and Christ is all; self is forgotten. To have been there is another matter. The presence of God makes us feel our nothingness. The flesh can take advantage of our having been in it once we are no longer there. To have taken him up to a fourth heaven, so to speak, would only have increased the danger.

Here is the man to glory in, he says. He separates this man, as it were, from himself — the man in the flesh, who can glory only in his weaknesses. How plainly he seems to want us to separate what he was in himself from this wonderful vision given to him!

Notice that he does not speak of himself as Paul; this is very blessed. If he has anything humbling to say about himself, he speaks of Paul. He will say, "through a window in a basket I was let down by the wall." There was nothing very elevating for a man in that. It was a humbling position, so he says "I." But the moment he comes to speak of what is elevating, it is no longer "I." It is "a man in Christ" — which is true of every Christian. "I know a man in Christ."

"Such a one." How many of us could exclude ourselves from this and say we are not such? We are not Christians at all if that is not true of us. Such a one as this was caught up to the third heaven. Would not God draw our hearts after such unspeakable blessedness? And would He not satisfy hearts that He had taught to long for it?

When I think of my place in Christ, of the "man in Christ," we ought to glory in such a one. This is not arrogance. It cannot be any other way, once we know ourselves in Christ. Do you think I can do anything but glory in being in Christ, and like Christ in glory? Of such a one I will glory. Let no pretended humility rob us of this. It is legalism.

But the apostle does boast — not exactly "of" or "in," but "on behalf of such a one." God did not deal with His servant this way for no reason, but in a way worthy of Himself. The Spirit led Paul to speak of it fourteen years later, because the testimony of Christ called for it. It was grace to give the privilege. It was grace not to boast of it for himself in the meantime. It was grace to write of it now, and to write it in the inspired word for all saints in all time. His weaknesses we have had in the preceding chapter. They were the suffering of love for Christ's sake in a weak body, with all men and things opposed, which Satan was always skilfully arraying against him.

In glorying in "a man in Christ," he gloried in what made everything of Christ. In glorying in his weaknesses, he gloried in what made nothing of himself.

One might have thought he would boast in himself as an apostle. He had miraculous powers and was used to establish a new religion on earth. But no — of himself he would not boast except in his weaknesses. When he made his weaknesses public, Christ got all the credit for his marvellous labours.

Circumstances had forced him into a position where he had to speak of this wonderful experience. He had kept silent about it for fourteen years. Even then he would say nothing except about his weaknesses. There was much more he could have mentioned and still stayed within the bounds of truth — which was more than his opponents always did.

The servant was jealous of his Master's glory. That is why he says so little about much that we would love to hear. He could say, as no one else before or since, "To me to live is Christ." He watched over this as closely in public ministry as in private walk.

We do not have these visions and revelations — they were special to Paul. But we have this link with heaven, and the place of a Christian in which we can glory. Everything God revealed to Paul belongs to us. If I look at myself "in Christ," I can glory. If I say "myself," I can glory only in my weaknesses. As the verse says, "I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me" — revelations, of course, were neither seen nor heard.

In the Spirit of his Master he held back truth that would exalt himself. He did not want anyone to weigh him by the extras that came with his office. He wanted them to weigh him by the life they saw him live as a man in Christ. Let those who knew him judge him. Let them not treat him as an idol. Let them value him in love, by the measure and worth of the work he did among them by the grace of God.

Faith does not boast of visions and revelations of the Lord, any more than of what it has done. You may speak of trials and sufferings if forced to. You may speak too of what belongs to every man in Christ, even though only one person received the vision. So David said nothing about the lion and the bear he was enabled to kill at his lowly work. He spoke only when others needed their fears calmed, for God's glory. And the apostle waited many years before he spoke of a wonderful experience. Others, less spiritual, would have talked about it everywhere for as many years or more. What would the Corinthians or their misleaders have made of it?

Until now the Apostle had been silent about this wonderful experience. Boasting about it might give the impression that he was greater spiritually than he appeared to be — greater than his actual life showed, or than the reports they had heard about him. What a lesson for all of us! Beware of the pretentious, self-asserting spirit, so natural to us. It jumps at some striking experience to exalt us, and to give others an impression of a spirituality and devotion we do not really have.

He has been in the third heaven. He had received this wonderful abundance of revelations, and the flesh says to him, "No one has ever been in the third heaven except you." … He is not puffed up while he is there, because it is the presence of God, and nobody can be proud in the presence of God. People imagine that being in the third heaven makes a person proud. Never! The danger is, once you are out of the third heaven, that the flesh becomes proud of having been there.

It is said that "thorn" hardly conveys the sense adequately, and that "stake" would be better. We do not think much of thorns and remove them easily, but a stake in the flesh is far more serious and completely crippling in its effects. What Paul was referring to we do not know. It is probably left vague on purpose, so that all our attention rests on one fact: any affliction, even the most damaging kind, can be turned into an occasion of spiritual preservation and gain.

It is "to keep me from becoming conceited" — not bringing me back after failure, but preventing the failure from ever happening. It was a grievous thing for Paul; a messenger of the devil. Who but God could use Satan against Satan? This very thorn, this messenger of Satan, took away from Satan the power to work on Paul's flesh. … We are very prone to use the language of unbelief and say, "This or that happened to me." Would it not be far more blessed to say, "God sent me this or that"? Is there not a sweetness about anything, however grievous, when I can say, "My Father's hand in watchful love brought me this thorn"? "A thorn was given me in the flesh" — it was not a crushing trial that happened to me; it was a given mercy.

We should rather say that the devil was permitted to deal him heavy blows, for everything that happened was beneath the hand of God. It was with Paul as it had been long before with Job: we can trace three causes. The third causes were fire from heaven, whirlwind and evil men in Job's case, and the thorn in the flesh in Paul's. Behind these in each case lay the power and hostility of Satan; but behind him, as the first cause, was the hand of God. Job's safety and blessing lay in turning away from the third causes, and even from the second cause, so that he might accept everything from the hand of God. It was the same with Paul.

This discipline is suited and adapted to each individual soul. This, I have no doubt, is why all speculation about the nature of Paul's thorn in the flesh ends in nothing. God has wisely seen fit to leave it untold. If God had made it known, we might have decided that it was not ours, and left it there. Leaving it untold lets us see a great principle of God's dealings, seen in this man's case but applicable to all. Each would have his suited "thorn". It is the very thing that would counteract his natural tendency. So it strips him of every claim to power and breaks any imagined strength of man.

Here is a man who has seen the glories of heaven. He comes to earth, and what does he find? Not glories and honours, but the thorn in his flesh, Satan's messenger. He is to learn that the only vessel out of which such glories can shine is a broken vessel. Otherwise he would be puffed up by the revelations. And there is great danger that the precious truths that belong to us as men in Christ may simply feed our natural pride.

If you would not be overcome by temptation, be much in prayer. Prayer is the best antidote against temptation. Christ prescribes this remedy: "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation" (Mark 14:38). When Paul had "a messenger of Satan to harass him," he took himself to prayer. When Satan assaults furiously, let us pray fervently.

Very naturally Paul took himself to prayer. It was intense prayer: he not only requested but pleaded. It was repeated, for he pleaded with the Lord three times.

A careful look at the Scriptures shows that there are particular subjects which we more fittingly bring before the Lord. For example, there is a special relationship between the servant and the Lord. He Himself taught His disciples this: "Pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." The apostle does the same. In the matter of the thorn in the flesh, which he felt was hindering his service, he addresses himself to Christ as Lord.

The thorn in the flesh was truly humbling to the great apostle. This is clear from what he says to the Galatians: "though my condition was a trial to you, you did not scorn or despise me." It was something that made him easy to look down on as a preacher. He thought, no doubt, that it would greatly hinder his usefulness; but he had to learn that the great hindrance to usefulness is the flesh.

Three times (like the Lord with reference to the cup He was to drink) the apostle asks Him that the thorn may be taken away. But the divine life is formed in the putting off of self. That putting off is worked in us as we become conscious of how unsuited this flesh is — the flesh we like to gratify — to the presence of God and to the service we are called to.

The apostle's first thought was: could I not get out of this difficulty? Believers think they need only get out of their circumstances. But don't you know that if you did, you would take with you the nature that makes your circumstances so trying? Here the apostle goes to God to change his circumstances; we often change them for ourselves. He said, "Take it away, Lord," three times. What a contrast to the threefold prayer of the blessed One to His Father, ending with, "Not my will, but yours, be done." It was the perfection of Christ to shrink from drinking that cup. Paul, imperfect and feeble, prayed: Lord, change my circumstances. The answer came in this: Do you want Me to put you in circumstances where you will not need My power? "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Yet for all that, his desire was not granted. Instead of having the thorn removed he received the assurance of abundant grace — such grace that the thorn would become an asset rather than a liability, a means of blessing rather than a hindrance. The Lord answered his prayer, but not according to his thought. He gave him instead what was better.

But his prayer did not match the mind of God, who had a better thing in store for Paul — a thing Paul would have lost if his request had been granted... To present our requests, with submission, is always our privilege. Paul's example shows this. He pleaded with the Lord for his desire not once only, but three times. The result was that he became so submissive that in the end he took pleasure in the very weaknesses he had begged to lose.

Paul turned to prayer, as anyone would. It was intense prayer: he did not just ask, he begged. And he repeated it, begging the Lord three times. Yet his desire was not granted. Instead of having the thorn removed, he received the promise of abundant grace. That grace would turn the thorn into a help instead of a burden, a blessing instead of a hindrance. The Lord answered his prayer, but not in the way he expected. He gave him something better.

He prayed three times for it to be removed, and it stayed. But it became the occasion for a fresh promise of abundant inward grace, in those unforgettable words. It is not only grace, but MY grace, not only strength, but MY strength. You can only measure that grace and strength by the divine and eternal fullness of the One whose they are. Set beside that greatness, how small Paul was — and we are smaller still.

At first, Paul longed to be rid of the thorn in the flesh, whatever it was. But the thorn in the flesh was better than pride in the heart. It was far better to be afflicted than proud. It was better to have Christ's sympathy with him in his trial than the power of His hand taking him out of it.

Christ is not speaking about Paul's ability to meet the trial. He is speaking about His own heart with Paul in it, to brighten everything. He says, "You want the thorn removed, but I will leave it. It will make you lean on My arm… I want you to see how living My grace is, and I want you to rest your heart on it. I will leave the thorn just to make you feel what you have in Me."

The thorn is not power in itself, but preparation for power. Suppose Paul was despised in his ministry: well, there never was such a work done before. Then there must be something here besides Paul; Christ must be here… Where is His strength made perfect? In a person who has no strength at all: then it must be Christ.

The Lord never gives us strength of our own; He makes us feel our dependence. I am made to feel my weakness when I see how my flesh would even twist the blessings that are mine in Christ.

The first sentence of this verse is sometimes overlooked — "He said to me." Paul got it from Christ. You may tell me that Christ is enough, but I must hear it myself from Christ in heaven. That will settle my heart… Before, he begged the Lord to take the thorn away. Now a message from Christ has changed everything. The voice of Christ changes everything. There is no third party here; it is not He and us, but He and me.

This weakness keeps the flesh from boasting. It also becomes the occasion for Christ to display His grace and power. So from now on the Apostle boasts in the very weakness he had wanted removed. He can take pleasure in the very things that we by nature find so hateful — weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and distresses.

Having been in the third heaven did not give the strength. In a sense it made the weakness necessary, and then the strength came in. We do not know how to be weak, and that is our weakness.

At first, Paul longed to be rid of the thorn in the flesh, whatever it was. He begged the Lord three times that it might depart from him. But the thorn in the flesh was better than pride in the heart. It was better by far to be afflicted than puffed up — better to have Christ's sympathy with him in his trial than the power of His hand to deliver him out of it.

This is far more than defeating mighty enemies by faith and patience. It is taking pleasure in what is most trying and overwhelming to nature, so that Christ's strength may be displayed. Where the flesh might rise up, it is put down. This way of dealing with us is the life of the Spirit. But Christ makes the bitter sweet. His power can make its home in us when we accept our nothingness and rejoice in it, if only it brings Him praise and glory.

This weakness keeps the flesh from boasting. It becomes the occasion for the display of the grace and power of Christ. So from now on the Apostle boasts in the very weakness he had wanted taken away. So he can take pleasure in the very things that our natural selves hate — weaknesses, insults, needs, persecutions and distresses. All these things were for Christ's sake. They showed the weakness of the body, and they showed the power of Christ too. That is why the Apostle can say, "When I am weak, then I am strong."

The Apostle had learned to take pleasure in these various forms of adversity. In Romans 5 he tells us that he boasted in tribulations because he knew what they were designed to produce in Christian character. Here he takes pleasure in tribulations for a different reason. He had discovered that they were the way the power of Christ became active through him in service. The very weakness he was plunged into made him a fit channel for that power to flow out.

It was a great revelation to him that his ability for service lay in his weakness... in his imagined strength he was weaker than water; but in his weakness he was invincible, for the power of Christ rested upon him... He says, as it were, to His servant: the weaker you are, the better for Me. It is only the weak I can use.

You may say, "That must be a miserable experience." Well, Paul was not miserable; he was supremely happy... He was happy to have all his own strength reduced to nothing, so that instead he might prove the sufficiency of the Lord's grace and Christ's strength.

We are never so strong as when we feel ourselves weak, even like "water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again." On the other hand, we are never so weak as when we imagine we are strong. Peter never showed more pitiful weakness than when he imagined he had unusual strength.

There is a true sorrow in these words. He began his self-defence with an apology for it. Now that he had finished, he felt humbled and distressed, though he had spoken nothing but the truth. But if he was a fool, the blame for his folly lay at their own doors. They forced him to do what he would have been glad to leave undone: to fill his letter with himself, instead of writing only of the Lord. They wronged him when they forced him to praise himself in this way. He should have been their glory, as they were his own.

The Corinthians ought to have commended him, since they were his converts. Instead, he had to defend his apostleship before them. Though nothing in himself, he was behind the very chief apostles in nothing. For proof he could point to his whole career, and above all to his life and service among them.

It was all the more painful because of his subject. He is not dealing with sin in man, met by the righteousness of God in Christ. He is dealing with utter weakness in the Christian, replaced by the strength of Christ. Even the saints in Corinth were, as to this, on ground like the world, the heathen world around them. They gloried in intellect, in learning, in eloquence — in short, in man. Some critics threw his weakness at him as a reproach. Far from denying it, he insisted on it himself as the condition for the display of Christ's power.

We never see our nothingness so clearly as when divine love fills us. Here Paul first sets out the all-sufficient grace of Christ, and then confesses, "I am nothing."

Natural power is as offensive in the service of Christ as one's own righteousness is in justification. Our own righteousness denies Christ for us. Natural power denies Christ in us; it denies His power resting on us in our own felt weakness, indeed in our nothingness. Nothing could be more opposed to the feeling and reasoning of flesh and blood. Human nature dislikes what is humbling and painful; it loves ease or honour. It is very trying to keep going in difficulties, depending on nothing but the Lord. We are not rescued out of them; we endure them, so that He may be glorified and we may prove that His grace is enough.

The most eminent of those who bore that title were his equals only, not his guides. He had his commission from the Lord no less than they did. Measured by themselves, both they and he were nothing. But measured by their labours, the pre-eminence was his rather than theirs.

Irony and seriousness together run through these closing chapters of this touching letter. Paul is facing "the overmuch apostles." These were surely none of the twelve, but false apostles, pretenders who imposed on too many of the Corinthians. Faith and love kept him from naming himself, so the rebuke fell without mercy on those who sought to exalt themselves by undermining him.

Irony and seriousness together run through these closing chapters of this touching letter. He faces "the super-apostles." They were certainly not among the twelve apostles Jesus chose. They were false apostles (2 Cor. 11:13), pretenders who deceived too many of the Corinthians. And we read, "The signs of a true apostle were performed among you with utmost patience, with signs and wonders and mighty works." Faith and love kept him from mentioning himself, so that the rebuke fell without mercy on those who sought to lift themselves up by undermining him.

"Signs and wonders and mighty deeds" are certainly "signs of an apostle." Yet is it not instructive that something very different comes before them all — a quiet, passive virtue? In the apostle, "patience" was the supreme sign, or at least the first one named. The inference is obvious. Patience should, all the more, mark those who are not apostles.

What was the first sign of an apostle? The signs of a true apostle were performed among the Corinthians "with utmost patience, with signs and wonders and mighty works." Patience was the first great sign of an apostle. You never find the apostles healing a friend because it was pleasant to them. Paul writes, "I have left Trophimus sick at Miletus." And Epaphroditus, who had been searching for Paul somewhere, "was sick, close to death. But God had mercy on him — and not on him only, but on me also, so that I would not have sorrow upon sorrow."

These three words, chosen by God, explain the nature of miracles. They were "wonders," because they caught the attention of the people. They were "signs" that God had visited His people, and that the acts of the Lord Jesus marked Him out as the promised Messiah. And they were "powers," because they were beyond anything a human being can do.

The true signs of an apostle reflect the spirit and working powers that belong, in their perfection, to the Lord. Notice the three terms Paul uses here as proof of his office: "signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds." The Spirit uses those same three words elsewhere to describe the ministry of "Jesus of Nazareth, the Man approved of God" (Acts 2:22). And had the Corinthian saints forgotten all these things? They ought to see this: their own claim to be God's church at Corinth stands or falls by the very thing others had led them to question.

The evidence of his apostleship had been very clear in Corinth. It was his humble, steadfast endurance of all trouble, and added to this, "signs, wonders, and mighty deeds." God had accredited his message with unquestionable proofs of His own working. They had nothing of the doubtful character of the many counterfeits of our day, whether from Satan or from mere human nature.

There was nothing, then, in which they were behind the other assemblies. The one exception was the independence from them that he seemed to show. If that was a wrong, they must forgive him for it. For him it was only the independence of a parent who seeks his children's good rather than their service.

When he was with them, he took care not to be a financial burden in any way. Yet he had taken help from other churches. He speaks again with a tinge of irony in saying, "forgive me this wrong." He intended to continue on the same lines.

For all his apostolic power, he had not fleeced them to press the weight of his office on their minds — a style of pastoring that seemed to attract them. He had not even let them do what other churches did, who gladly gave to his support... He held back from using his undoubted rights as a labourer worthy of his hire. This, he acknowledged, was a wrong they might well resent. So he asks forgiveness — but in the spirit of a man who confesses while planning to do it again.

He could look for support from the church of God, but he preferred to work with his own hands. So in the second letter to the Corinthians he begs them to forgive the wrong. He would not accept anything from them. They were not in a state to be trusted with such a gift. Their state was what it was, and God so overruled it in His ways that the apostle received nothing from them. He uses this fact to humble them because of their pride and immorality.

Later there was another special reason why the apostle would not take money from the Corinthians. False teachers wanted to profit from Paul's work, and they pretended to work without taking anything. Paul wanted to remove every chance of influence from these evil men. They were not to claim anything that was not just as true of him.

He would not take from the Corinthians because they were fond of money. But he speaks of it as a wrong, and as something out of the ordinary. He did take from others for the gospel's sake. In 1 Corinthians 9 he treats the whole matter on the ground that those who preach the gospel should live by the gospel.

He lowered himself to lift them up. Was this an offence, a sin? He had accepted help from other churches, above all the Macedonian ones. He speaks of this as robbing, or plundering, them — still the language of irony, of course. He had done the Corinthians the greatest possible service, and it cost them nothing.

His planned visit was the third in purpose, not in fact. His second intention had remained unfulfilled, for the reasons already given. He was ready before, and held back only for their sakes. Now he was ready once more, and if he came, they would find him still unchanged. He will be at his own expense, and not theirs.

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere at any cost to himself. In some places he felt free and happy to receive, not only from people but from assemblies, going on with God in grace and humility. When the world's spirit prevailed, he held back and would receive nothing. The general principle remained intact: "the labourer deserves his wages." But the apostle, while laying down what is right, could and did go beyond it in grace. He used his right not for himself but for Christ wherever His glory called for it. From the poor Macedonian brothers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians nothing.

If he now at last revisited Corinth, the servant would still hold to the portion of his Master, and give instead of receive. He had a right to live by the gospel and to be cared for by the assembly. Yet he would give that right up among people who might misuse or misunderstand it, to Christ's dishonour. He would be like a parent in unselfish affection to his children. He would fare as the One whose love grew as others hated. How remarkably close was Paul's "imitation" of Christ!

He will not change his practice when he comes. He will still receive no support from them, for he does not seek what they have, but themselves — that is, their true welfare according to God. And he applies to this a natural, normal principle, that of parents providing for their children, rather than the reverse. He was doing this. We must not forget the other side of the truth either, as 1 Timothy 5:4 shows. If parents are in need, their children are responsible to relieve them, if they have the means.

How glad people are when they get a semblance of Scripture authority for their worldliness! In this passage it is only a semblance of authority. The apostle is not teaching Christians to hoard. He is not teaching heavenly people to lay up treasure on earth, for any purpose. He only refers to a common practice in the world and a common feeling in nature. He uses it to illustrate his own way of dealing with the Corinthians, who were his children in the faith. He had not burdened them, and he would not burden them, for he was the parent.

If they had fallen behind other churches in any proof of his apostleship, it was in this: they had contributed nothing to his support. He was coming again. This proof would still be missing. He would spend himself for them, like a kind father, even though the more he loved, the less they loved him… It is sad work when someone is above these miserable motives and ways of judging things, and full of the divine and glorious motives of Christ. Yet he must come down to the motives that fill the selfish hearts of the people he deals with. But love must bear all things.

If he did visit Corinth now, the servant would still hold to the portion of his Master. He would give rather than receive. He had the right to live by the gospel and to be cared for by the assembly. But he would give up that right among people who might misuse it or misunderstand it, and so dishonour Christ. He would be like a parent in unselfish affection to his children.

He was ready to expend vital and spiritual energy if only he could be a help to them.

Think of a man who gives up the best place by choice, though he has a clear right to it. He lets go of his own advantage. At his own cost he goes out of his way to show kindness to others. He becomes poor, and does not just give out of what he has to spare, for the sake of Christ's people whose needs he meets. He not only spends, but is spent for others. Then indeed he becomes a letter from Christ, known and read by everyone.

Paul was truly a father in Christ, his heart well saturated with divine love, so he could love the unloving, just as God does. The natural tendency of our hearts is the exact opposite. We are perhaps kindly disposed towards certain people, and show them various favours. They take it all, but stay cool and unappreciative. We are annoyed, and announce that we are finished with them! It was not so with Paul. Even if things got so bad that their response only decreased as his love increased, he would go on expressing that love in the most practical way of all. He would spend and be spent for them.

Note the strength of the language, the superlative he uses — "most gladly spend and be spent." He did not love because he was loved. He loved because he was strong in the divine nature.

"The less I am loved!" Sad indeed. "But be it so." How big-hearted! Could three small words hold a fuller volume of settled, inexhaustible love? They tell of a heart that was independent of the people it served. Their return might be rejection, coldness, suspicion or indifference. The river would still flow on unchecked.

If His servant could say that the more he loved, the less he was loved, how much more fully true was it of the Master! The disciple was like his Master; but the Master was infinitely perfect.

How much love should I have for my brother? Enough to make up for what he lacks. Didn't the great apostle set us the example?

This is the cheap insult that deceitful workers whispered among the Corinthian believers. They wanted to blacken the apostle's name and lift themselves up. They dared to say that, if he did not burden them directly, he all the more craftily reaped what he could through Titus and others. No one sinks so low as those who profess to be Christians while estranged and self-seeking. In short, these are not the apostle's words but his enemies' words. He exposes them for our warning. He calls this speaking of his "folly," because it was about himself and not about Christ, and their wickedness forced him to it.

It is strange that anyone can plead such a sentence as proof that a Christian may rightly use trickery. He is speaking here of the very thing they charge him with. He throws it back at once with the questions that follow. Did he show his craft by making a profit from them through the men he sent — the profit he would not take himself? He had sent Titus, and a brother with him. Had Titus made a gain of them? Had they not walked in the same spirit and in the same steps?

Trickery like that was far from his soul. Yet the accusers seemed by no means above it themselves, since they suspected him. What will malice in the heart not dare to think and say?

The apostle was ready to preach the gospel everywhere, at any cost to himself. In some places he was free and glad to receive support — not only from people, but from assemblies walking with God in grace and humility. Where the world's spirit ruled, he held back and would take nothing. The general principle stood untouched: "the laborer deserves his wages"; "the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel." But the apostle laid down what was right, and then went beyond it in grace. He used that right not for himself but for Christ, wherever His glory called for it. From the poor Macedonian brothers he received; from the wealthy Corinthians, nothing.

A pope wrote to his officials in Toulouse. He used the apostle's words to excuse his own deceit: "Nevertheless, being crafty, I caught you with guile." He writes: "We advise you, with the apostle Paul, to use guile with this count. In this case it ought to be called prudence. We must attack one by one those who have broken away from unity. Leave the count of Toulouse alone for a time. Keep up a pretence towards him, so that the other heretics may be defeated more easily, and that afterwards we may crush him."

A believer has many sides. You cannot judge him fairly by one appearance, and it is the same with churches as with people. Seen from one angle, the state of the Corinthian believers was very satisfactory and full of hope. Seen from another side, they look morally repulsive. These things stand before us as a warning and an encouragement. That is why unattractive passages of Scripture like this one matter. We are no better than they were. But if we take their example to heart, we may escape their disgrace in our own day of testing.

This is the low insult that deceitful workers whispered among the Corinthian saints. They wanted to blacken the apostle's name and raise their own. They dared to say this: if he did not burden them himself, he was all the more crafty in reaping what he could through Titus and others. No one sinks so low as those who claim to be Christians but are estranged and out for themselves. In short, it is the language, not of the apostle, but of his adversaries, whom he exposes for our warning.

It is strange that anyone can use such a sentence as an argument that a Christian may rightly use guile. He is speaking here of the very thing they charge him with. He throws it off at once by the questions that follow. Had he shown his guile by making a gain of them through the men he sent — the gain he would not make himself?

Such suspicions must surprise us. The way Paul meets them here is just as admirable. Christ when reviled did not revile back, and when unjustly struck He asked only for the evidence of the wrong. Grace sustains the servant here in his Master's steps. Truth is never loud in its own defence. These absurd hints were believed, and believing them was both unworthy and harmful. The apostle gives no other answer than the most effective one. He hands the accusation back to their own consciences as a question.

Here the apostle heads off a cunning and harmful hint. Some might charge him with gaining an advantage in a roundabout way, through his friends. Such dishonour he refuses. Guile like that was far from his soul. His accusers seemed by no means above it, though, if they could suspect him of it. What will malice in the heart not dare to think and say? They knew well that Titus and his companion walked among them with a self-denial like his own.

A saint is a many-sided character. You cannot judge him rightly by a few appearances, and what is true of people is true of churches. Seen from one angle, the state of the Corinthian saints was very satisfactory and full of hope. Seen from another, the picture they present is morally revolting. These things are set before us for our warning and our encouragement... We are no better than they, but by paying attention to their example we may escape their reproach in our own day of testing.

It was not enough for him here that God knew everything, so that he could leave it to Him to clear his name in His own time and way. Where there were steps that could be taken to prevent even suspicion, he would take them — and not taking them might itself have caused suspicion. This is an important principle for us to notice. Here was a man whose faith in God stood out above others, yet he would not act on that faith alone in a matter of this kind.

Indeed, the more honest a man is, the more he should want others to examine his actions closely. So too, those trusted to handle money in a church should make sure that others check the amounts and the use of any funds.

They suspected him of this: because he took no support from them, he was first trying to win them as his own followers by seeming unselfish. Later he would reap some material benefit from them. Those with selfish minds set on material things will always suspect selfish motives in others too. Did they not understand the true working of the Spirit of God in the Lord's servant?

A Greek convert, Paul's "true child in a common faith." Paul describes him to the Corinthian church as "my partner and fellow worker for your benefit." He had been sent to Corinth, and from there brought word of the effect of Paul's first letter to the church there. He was also employed by Paul to get ready the collection for the poor believers in Judea.

Here the apostle blocks a sly and spiteful hint. Some might charge him with using his friends to gain an advantage behind the scenes. Such dishonour he refuses. Guile like that was far from his soul. Yet the accusers seemed by no means above it, if they suspected him of it. What will malice in the heart not dare to think and say? They well knew that Titus and his companion walked among them with a self-denial like his own.

Such suspicions must surprise us. The way he meets them here is just as admirable. When men insulted Christ, He did not insult them back. When they struck Him unjustly, He only asked for evidence of the wrong (John 18:22). Grace here holds the servant to his Master's steps. Truth is never loud in its own defence. These insinuations were absurd, and the Corinthians held them to their own shame and to his hurt. The apostle answers them in the one way that works best. He hands the accusation back to their own consciences as a question.

But you say, the servants of the Lord must be supported. Certainly. Look at this dear man of God, and see how he was supported. He supported himself by making tents, and I guarantee they were the best tents on the market (Acts 18:3). He would not give any man a chance of saying, Paul was paid for it, or, I have made Paul rich. He kept himself. And I think the man who earns his bread by an honest trade, and then gives himself to the work of the Lord, is the happiest and freest of men. He depends on no man but his Master. Paul would not take a penny from the Corinthians (see 1 Cor. 9:15, 18; 2 Cor. 11:7-9), though he laid down the rule that the servant should be supported. He laid it down for others and gave it up for himself.

Besides, the low and filthy spirit exposed here is only a part of ourselves. Let the reader who is astonished by this passage look a little more closely at the forms of Christian life around him. His surprise will either stop and turn to silent sorrow, or it will fasten on some nearer target than the Church of God at Corinth. Is the charging of wrong motives such a rare thing in modern Christianity? Would to God it were!

There need be no question, I think, about the reading in verse 19. It is not "again" as in the Authorised Version, but "this long time," which does not suit the interrogative form. If others sought self-justification, not so the apostle, whatever they suspected. For those who are not occupied with Christ readily imagine in others what fills their own minds.

They thought as people always think whose hearts are not kept near to God. They measured God's messenger and servant by themselves. They did not measure him by how his life and manners matched the truth he preached. They were not living in communion with the Lord, so they failed completely to see the moral height of Paul's mind and spirit. Darkness does not understand light.

The man they misjudged turns to God's presence, and there, in His sight, he speaks in Christ. He spoke knowing he was in God's presence, and his speech was marked by Christ, not by the natural man. "In His name" does not seem to be the thought here, nor speaking in line with His teaching. He knew he was standing before the highest court of all, and so he spoke in Christ, not in the flesh.

Is it then that the apostle took the Corinthians for judges of his conduct? He spoke before God in Christ.

For some time, it seems, they had thought that when Paul spoke this way, it was just excuses. But this was a callous and thoughtless attitude. Paul insists, with all seriousness, that it is in the sight of God that he speaks in Christ. That leaves them no other option but to believe him — unless, of course, they want to take the extreme position of calling him a deliberate liar. But he was speaking and acting out of genuine concern for their edifying.

Yet his love never tired. He could visit them again and gladly spend all he had, and himself too, for them — and the more he loved them, the less they loved him… Again he reminds them that he was seeking their real building up, so that he would not have to be sharp with them.

Answering this objection, he can say in all seriousness that he knew he was speaking before God when he stated his motive: love that sought their building up. Loving them and desiring their edification, he does not hesitate to tell them of his fears. He dreaded that when he came he might find them in a state far from what he wished. Then he would have to take an attitude toward them that they would not want.

He would rather come in love and a spirit of meekness than with a rod, even though their condition might call for one… The evils he hints at as still at work are the ones he had rebuked so sharply in his first letter. They are strife and jealousy, outbursts of angry passion and scheming groups, open slanderings and secret whisperings, displays of proud insolence, and open disorders. It is a long list of sad evils. But how quickly they might mark true believers, where there is a party, or parties, ready to take up the word of leaders, spread it, and act on it! … There is really no special difficulty here, since the apostle is not speaking of all, but of many.

No fewer than eight words in 2 Cor. 12:20 describe the conditions the Apostle feared must prevail among them. Each of them shows what the evil spirit of jealousy and envy produces.

John 2:17 uses this word of the Lord: "Zeal for your house will consume me."… Later Paul says he was jealous over them with a godly jealousy. But in 2 Cor. 12:20 he uses the same word for the "envyings" or "jealousies" he feared he might find among them.

The church of God on earth is the scene of an unceasing conflict between flesh and Spirit, just as each child of God is. What Paul dreaded was the practical dominance of the flesh in the assembly of the saints at Corinth. His fears rested on only too solid a ground… He knew well that only close walking with God can keep His children from habitual sin.

Some may have sinned by licentiousness, as Paul feared. Others may have sinned by "backbitings" and "whisperings" of false accusations, because envy filled their hearts. All of it would come to light and be judged, as we see in the opening verses of chapter 13. Suppose the church today brought discipline against the backbiters and whisperers with as much zeal as against the licentious. We venture to think that this would be for the spiritual health and well-being of the church of God.

If we take chapter 12 as a whole, we have the third heavens at the beginning, and the grossest, vilest sins a Christian can fall into at the end. But between those two we have where the real power to avoid the sins lies. It is to have the flesh put down, and the power of Christ resting on him.

Yet for a heart like Paul's, having to enforce even necessary discipline was like a humbling affliction from his God. He took no joy in the chance it gave him to display his authority in public. Finding unrepented sin in God's assembly would turn his joy to mourning.

What love is hidden in the apostle's words! To find saints in sin like this was God humbling him in front of them, not them in front of him, though on the surface it looked the other way. But he spoke "in Christ." It was God humbling him over the evil condition of his saints, and over what that made necessary. His hand would not have failed to use the rod, but his heart was wounded and bled because of shameless evil among those who called on the name of the Lord.

If Paul had to discipline people there who had committed flagrant evil and had not repented, then, he says, "My God will humble me." Even if the discipline humbled them, as it should, having to act would still be far from pleasant for Paul. It would humble him too. The assembly always has the responsibility to judge any known conduct of "impurity, sexual immorality, and sensuality." But if such conduct was present in Corinth, and the assembly failed to judge it properly, God would require Paul to insist on it when he came. How much better for the assembly to bear such a burden, and not make it the painful duty of the Lord's servant.

It is striking to see, in this one chapter, the highest state to which a Christian can be raised... the lowest condition into which he can fall, and all the practical principles on which God carries on His work between these two extremes. In the beginning of the chapter we find a saint in the third heaven, in paradise, where flesh could have no part... At the end we find one, perhaps many, fallen into sexual immorality, impurity, and sensuality, and still unrepentant of their sins. What a contrast between the highest heavenly height and the lowest fleshly degradation! And the Christian capable of both!

There is a well-known law in nature. The finer, more delicate and excellent a thing is, the faster and more complete its decay. For the same reason a believer who turns back sinks to a lower level of moral ruin than many an unconverted person. He commits sins that would shame the one who was never converted. So it was at Corinth.

The Lord deals with individual souls in just the same way as with the church. He notices every departure from Him. But the door is always open for "repentance." Once the sin is judged, and seen in the light in which God sees it, nothing stands in the way of immediate restoration. The moment the conscience bows under the sin and confesses it, it comes into an upright position.

The Christians knew about it, and so did everyone in Corinth, and yet they had never mourned... I believe Paul was more troubled by the assembly's failure to mourn over this sin than by the sin itself, evil as it was. He says, "You are puffed up, you lack no gift, you have plenty of knowledge, and yet a disgrace is among you and you have not even mourned before God."

He had already explained why the second visit fell through. It was to spare them that he had not come. When he revisited them, they must not expect such forbearance. His patience had been misread by some, even if others had profited by it. But this third time he was coming. When he came, everything would be established with proper evidence. To my mind there is no ground for saying this was truly a third visit. On the contrary, it was the second in fact, though the third in purpose.

These opening words seem to clash with the facts in their historical order. That has caused much fruitless and unnecessary discussion. There is really no ambiguity here. Paul had already visited this church twice in purpose and intent, though not in fact. In the first chapter he has fully shown why he did not come in person for a time. He might also count it and speak of it as a real visit. Titus was not only his messenger but his true and faithful representative, "his partner and fellow worker for your benefit" (2 Cor. 8:23).

Even when discipline has been rightly applied, it has been carried out in a harsh judicial spirit, instead of the spirit of humiliation and sorrow that marked the Apostle here. We have made it the cold, heartless discipline of the court of law, instead of the warm, affectionate discipline of the family circle. Still, there has to be discipline. It is the discipline of God's house. It is not prejudiced or unreasoning, but founded on well established facts. So when Paul came, he intended every charge to be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses. Everything would be sifted fairly. If some reports were not based on fact, their falsehood would come to light. Their weight would fall not on the head of the accused but on the head of the accusers. Some may have sinned by immorality, as Paul feared. Others may have sinned by "backbitings" and "whisperings" of false accusations, because envy filled their hearts. Suppose there were as much zeal today in disciplining the backbiters and whisperers as the immoral. We venture to think it would be for the spiritual health and well-being of the church of God.

Let us note here how fitting his quotation from the law is. Judicial discipline proceeds on well-attested facts. God judges everything He discerns. He weighs thoughts and motives as well as actions. But He has not given that power to His children. Clear and repeated testimony must establish every accusation made against a believer. The principle still stands as a gospel truth: the law is for sinners. Grace meets and embraces those who repent; law judges sin.

But it must not be on mere suspicion that anyone is dealt with in this way. The evil must be plain, or admitted by the person, or established "by the evidence of two or three witnesses" (2 Cor. 13:1). If these are lacking, then there must be waiting on God and asking Him to bring everything to light. But the suspected person could not be allowed to carry on as if all were well.

Now, at last, he was coming to them. Love itself, while it has no limit, can yet be forced to act in a way it does not want to. If he came again he would not spare.

It had already been explained why the second visit had fallen through. It was to spare them that he had not come. When he came again, they must not expect such forbearance. His patience had been misread by some, though others had profited by it. But he was coming this third time. When he did, proper evidence would establish everything. The warnings he had already given — not only to those who had sinned before, but to all the rest — only strengthened his resolve not to spare when he came again.

2 Corinthians 12:14, 21 and 2 Corinthians 13:1 in no way show that a second visit happened. They show that he intended one. He put it off because of their state. He hoped the delay would give grace room to work, and so spare him from having to deal severely with many in the assembly. Indeed 2 Corinthians 13:2 seems to show plainly that he had not really been there a second time.

As far as I can see, there is no ground for saying that this was literally a third visit. The opposite seems true: it was the second in fact, though the third in purpose.

Again and again he urges them to correct themselves, by stating the only other outcome in clear and solemn terms... He is absent in person, yet he bears witness among them again by his written words. He addresses those words first and directly to the offenders themselves. They are a pledge of the more final sentence he will surely pronounce, if he finds them in this state when he comes. His purpose is settled, but he remembers that a higher power must act to bring it about. The words "if I come" imply this.

Sin breaks out in many ways, but two forms of it were very common at Corinth, as verses 20 and 21 show. First, all the unsettling behaviour that springs from pushing yourself forward, and from the envy and jealousy this breeds. Second, pleasing yourself, and the loose living that springs from that, in its various forms... We may notice that he speaks of his own humiliation and sorrow (2 Cor. 12:21) before he speaks of his authority in judgment (2 Cor. 13:2).

At last he was coming to them. Everything would come under review, and two or three witnesses would establish everything. Love itself has no limit, yet it can be forced to act in a way contrary to its desire. If he came again he would not spare.

2 Corinthians 13:2 threatens discipline from the apostle. But it in no way implies that they were not believers. And verse 5 argues on the thought that they were in the faith.

As an apostle he had special authority and power in this direction. Once the apostles had gone, only one kind of discipline was left: the discipline the church, or the saints together, carry out... Even when we apply discipline rightly, we do it in a harsh judicial spirit. We lack the spirit of humiliation and sorrow that marked the apostle here. We have made it the cold, heartless discipline of a court of law instead of the warm, affectionate discipline of the family circle.

The final chapter answers a challenge which he kept for last. Of all people, the Corinthians were the last who should have raised it. What a distress to him to speak of it at all! They had actually dared to ask for proof that Christ had spoken to them through him. Had they forgotten that they owed their life and salvation in Christ to his preaching?

Some have taken verse 5 out of its context and turned it into a plea for constant self-inspection, and even for doubt about one's own salvation. That happens when readers miss the parenthesis, which runs from the middle of verse 3 to the end of verse 4. Connect the early part of verse 3 with verse 5, and the sense is quite clear. There is again a touch of irony in Paul's words. The doubts they had foolishly raised about Christ speaking in him fell back on their own heads.

This shows how baseless the all too common abuse of this passage is, when people use it to support a doubting self-examination. That error strikes directly at the peace of the believer, and perhaps at the truth of the gospel too. For God sends the gospel, founded on the personal glory and the work of His Son. It brings the believer into communion with the Father and the Son, in full freedom of heart and with a cleansed conscience. These wrong readings, dressed up as zeal for holiness, quickly plunge the soul into doubt through questions about itself.

After the words, "since you seek proof that Christ is speaking in me," the apostle says that Christ "is not weak in dealing with you." He may look weak in the person of His servants, who are only made spiritually strong in proportion as they are weak. But He "is powerful among you," as shown by the effects of the ministry of Paul and his fellow workers.

Suppose they found fault with the apostle for being indifferent to human power and worldly wisdom — indeed for despising and hating it. Then let them think again of the Saviour, who "was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God." And let them judge who was consistent with Christ, His cross and His resurrection: they with their natural thoughts, or the apostle with his ministry, so despised in the eyes of some?

Paul had been proving that he was an apostle, which false teachers had called in question, because he was not ordained and sent out by Peter and the others. Paul appeals to his miracles and his work among them, and to every other proof of his apostleship. At last, reproaching them for their folly, he says, "If I am not an apostle, how are you Christians? 'Since you seek proof that Christ is speaking in me, examine yourselves.' If Christ did not speak by me you are not Christians, for, as he says, I have begotten you all by the gospel." It was an unanswerable argument to them. They denied their own Christianity if they denied his apostleship.

Their Christianity and his apostleship were so closely connected that to question one was to question the other. It is as if I were to show an expensive watch to someone and say, "Since you seek proof that the man who made this is a watchmaker, examine it."

The apostle was content with no better evidence than his Corinthian converts, unless indeed they failed the test — which was far from what they claimed or what he believed. He would far rather give them no proof of his apostolic power in severe discipline.

As people often point out, the part of verse 3 that begins "who is not weak in dealing with you," and the whole of verse 4, is a parenthesis. So the sentence runs on like this: "Since you seek proof that Christ is speaking in me... examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith." They had been tempted to deny that Paul was an apostle. But he had been the means of their conversion. So he says, in effect: you yourselves are the proof of my apostleship, if you are Christians. If you deny that I am an apostle, you must surrender your title to belong to Christ.

From "who is not weak in dealing with you" to the end of verse 4 is a parenthesis. It points to the character of his ministry, on the principles brought forward in the previous chapter. On man's side there is weakness, and what people treat with contempt. On God's part there is power. So it was with Christ: crucified in weakness, raised again by divine power. If the apostle himself was weak, it was in Christ. And he lived in Him, by the power of God, toward the Corinthians.

If they found fault with the apostle for caring nothing about human strength and worldly wisdom — for despising and hating both — let them think again of the Saviour, who "was crucified in weakness" (literally, out of weakness), "yet He lives by God's power" (literally, out of God's power). Then let them judge who matched Christ, His cross and His resurrection: they with their natural thoughts, or the apostle with a ministry that some despised?

It is amazing to think about who this is. He grew tired from His journey and sat down at the well in Sychar. A repentant woman washed His feet with her tears. Above all, He died for us on the cross of Calvary. And He was none other than "Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isa. 9:6). "He was crucified in weakness" (2 Cor. 13:4), yet at that very moment He was "upholding the universe by the word of His power" (Heb. 1:3).

This richly gifted but unstable church had shown plenty of weakness and folly... But for God's assembly to be like this reflected badly on the Name they bear; for Christ is both the wisdom and the power of God. So their low condition came from failing to remain firmly in Him. For with Him the time of weakness was past; He was crucified in weakness, and that for them — but He lives by the power of God. The glory of the Father raised Him from the dead. He is the same living One who once lay down in real death under the burden of our sins.

The words at the end of verse 4 are remarkable — "by the power of God toward you." The Apostle was not thinking of living in resurrection in the time to come. He meant that, joined to the living Christ, he would show the power of that life now, toward the Corinthians. The power of a new life marks Christianity, and that life works in blessing. Nothing less will do, whether creed or ceremony or work.

All the strength of nature was taken out of him. Everything now must be in the power of God. Christ Himself was crucified through weakness, but He lives now by the power of God... Weakness marks that day, but that is God's opportunity; He comes in with the power of resurrection... The weaker you and I are in our own estimation the better. We trust far too much in our own strength.

It is not by human strength that the man of God conquers. The victories that will shine brightest are always those cast, so to speak, in the mould of the death of the Lord Jesus. With us it is life first and then death, because by nature we are dead in trespasses and sins. But with the Lord Jesus it is death first and then resurrection life. That is the pattern for the Christian's faith to grasp... A man cannot win Christian victories until he is bare and low before God. He must be broken down in one way or another.

It helps a lot in understanding what follows to see this. Whether it is marked in print or not, a parenthesis opens after the first clause of verse 3 and runs through verse 4 as well. So the first clause of verse 3 connects with verse 5: "Since you seek proof that Christ is speaking in me … examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves." It is a final notice of, and answer to, their unworthy questioning of Paul's apostleship.

The Corinthians had questioned whether Christ spoke in Paul, and whether he was a real apostle. You can see it all through both letters. As a final argument he says, "You had better examine yourselves. How did you come to be Christians?" He was the one God used to convert them. So he adds, "Do you not know your own selves, that Christ dwells in you, unless you are reprobates?" How did He get there?

A reprobate is someone thrown out as good for nothing. The picture comes from silver rejected as worthless. He means, "If you are Christians, Christ has spoken through me, and it is through me that you are Christians."

With the apostle there were only two things in view: either Christ Jesus in you, or you are reprobates. There is no thought of a Christian becoming a reprobate. He says, "But I trust that you will know that we are not reprobates."

We turn first to the case of the Corinthians. We read, "Do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you? — unless indeed you fail to meet the test!" So Christ was in the Corinthians after all, as He is in every true child of God. The only exception, according to the verse, is the reprobate, the unconverted.

This also shows how groundless the far too common misuse of this passage is. People use it to justify a doubting self-examination. The truth is that a look at the context clears the error away — an error that strikes at the peace of the believer, and even at the truth of the gospel. These misreadings wear the cover of concern for holiness, but they plunge the soul at once into doubt by making it question itself.

Nothing in the Apostle's words tells the Christian to look inside himself for the assurance that he is a Christian. It is the outward look to Christ risen that gives inward peace, and the word of God that gives assurance. When the Lord appeared among His disciples on the day of the resurrection, He found them troubled by thoughts rising in their hearts. At once He dispelled their fears by directing their gaze to Himself: "See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself." Looking within filled them with doubts and fears. Looking out at their risen Lord, they saw in His hands and feet the proofs that He had died for them and was risen, and this brought peace and joy.

It is quite right to examine whether we are living up to it. But that is a very different thing. A child does right to examine how he behaves as a child. It would be sad work for him to do the other thing and examine whether he is a child. Being aware of a relationship — an awareness that never fails — is one thing. Living consistently with it is another. We must not confuse the two.

A reprobate is one cast out as good for nothing; a figure from reprobate silver.

Some soften this word down to "disapproved," but the New Testament never uses it in any sense but the worst. Said of "land" (Hebrews 6), it means "worthless" — bearing thorns and briars, but no acceptable fruit. Paul uses it the same way in 2 Corinthians 13:5-6, 7, never for something good that merely falls short.

The apostle was content with no better evidence than his Corinthian converts, unless indeed they were reprobate, which was far from the ground they took or he.

He appeals to them, and to God's call that turned them from idols to Him, "as the seal of his apostleship." It is as if he said, "If Christ has not spoken by me, how is it that you are Christians?"

Nothing in the Apostle's words suggests that a Christian should look within to make sure he is a Christian. It is the outward look to Christ risen that gives the inward peace, and the word of God that gives assurance. When the Lord appeared among His disciples on the day of His resurrection, He found them troubled by the thoughts rising in their hearts. At once He calmed their fears by turning their eyes to Himself: "See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself" (Luke 24:36-39). Looking within filled them with doubts and fears. Looking outside themselves at their risen Lord, they saw in His hands and feet the proof that He had died for them and was risen, and this brought peace and joy into their hearts.

Missing the long parenthesis here has made people think that Paul really meant them to examine themselves to see whether they were in the faith. In fact his argument rests on the very fact that they did not need to examine themselves and could not. He turns to them at once with the question: "Do you not recognise yourselves that Jesus Christ is in you, unless indeed you are reprobates?"

His trust is that they too will acknowledge the truth about him, and about those he gloried in as his fellow workers for the kingdom of God: they really were what they claimed to be. This present letter, if they read it with clear eyes, should stand as his witness in the sight of God.

They would not accept this designation! And they would hardly go so far as to brand Paul a reprobate. Verse 6 should at least have alerted them to how heartless their unfair criticism of him was.

He prayed that they might do no evil, and so be clearly approved and not reprobate. He did not pray this so that his own work among them would be approved and bring him glory. He prayed it so that they might do what is right, and so prove beyond all question that they were not reprobates. If that were so he would be content, even though he appeared to be a reprobate himself. That he was not a reprobate he knew very well, and he trusted they knew it too, as he says in verse 6.

Notice how much this short wish holds. It is worded negatively, yet it seems to be the measure of a saint's perfection as one who bears the name of Christ. To be blameless and harmless in our obedience to the faith is to be as sons of God (Phil. 2:15). It is to be like Him who did no evil, and who in Himself was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners. Being kept from temptation and delivered from evil are among the few things the Master taught His disciples above all to pray for. Goodness that is positive and active will surely grow out of such a state of soul. But stopping sin must always come before doing its opposite. As we unlearn evil we learn good, and when we deny ourselves we do what pleases the Lord most.

Paul kept his body under control, in case, though he had preached to others, he himself should be a castaway. 1 Cor. 9:27. The same word is translated 'reprobate' in Rom. 1:28; 2 Cor. 13:5-7; 2 Tim. 3:8; Titus 1:16; and 'rejected' in Heb. 6:8. It is the negative form of 'approved,' Rom. 16:10; etc.

Whatever might be the case with them, he trusted they would know that he was not reprobate. He only prayed to God that they should do no evil. He did not pray this so that he himself would not be reprobate — that is, worthless in his ministry, for here he is speaking of ministry. He prayed it so that they might do good even if he were reprobate.

He prayed that they might do no evil, and so be clearly approved and not reprobate. He did not pray this so that their conduct would approve his work among them and bring him glory. He prayed it so that they might do what is right, and prove beyond all question that they were not reprobates. If that were so he would be content, even though he appeared to be a reprobate himself.

He desires not that he may shine, but they. Let them only be found in the way of that honour which comes from God, and he was content to be still slandered by men.

His prayer to God was that they might be kept from evil practice. He did not ask this only to commend the Apostle who had been used in their conversion. He asked it so that, by acting honestly, they would prove to the world that they were no reprobates, however much the world might belittle him.

His heart was set on their further blessing, more than on his apostolic office. He claimed that office for their sakes more than his own... But he prayed that they might give no such occasion. He did not pray this so that his own claim would be shown valid, but so that they might do what was fitting for saints — even though he might lack such proofs, or however much people ran him down. Then there would be no occasion for a display of power, since their honourable walk would speak for the truth.

He knew that all the power in which he served came from God. So it was only available as long as he was working for the truth and in the truth. If he had turned against the truth, he would have lost that power at once. There are powers hostile to the truth, but in the long run they cannot prevail. So against the truth he was powerless, while for it he was powerful.

He does not say we may do nothing, but we can, and power must be measured by its final results... And for a while the scoffers seem to win the day... Christ, by dying, destroyed for His people the one who had the power of death. In the same way, the injuries done to truth are the sure though delayed destruction of her enemies. They record their own condemnation in the wounds they inflict.

Resisting the Spirit and speaking evil of the way of truth are, sadly, all too easy and natural to man. A Christian is not exempt from the danger of that same guilt, if his mind is not kept in due subjection to the written word.

Words not only of warning but of great comfort too. Truth sits in Christ in its personal majesty, as the umpire of all our acts. It must judge both the teacher and the taught; so they need not fear his words, but weigh them in their consciences. If his words went against what was written elsewhere, they had no power and no authority.

Verse 8 stresses that nothing can overthrow truth. Whatever a person does, even out of opposition to the truth, it will only end up showing truth to be completely triumphant. Faith about this will put us now wholeheartedly on the side of truth.

Blessed be God, the Scriptures have stood the ceaseless attacks of the long centuries. And attacks on the Person of our blessed Lord can only recoil to the destruction of those who make them.

If we are wise, we shall live for the Lord. We shall be wise and happy too if we can say with the apostle, "we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth." Of everything we may ask: will it help the truth? No? Then it will not do for me, says the heart that is true to Christ.

After all, nothing could really be done against the truth — nothing could prevail against it — only for the truth. We must be on the other side of things, with God, to realise how true this is; but it is so.

The mind that was in Christ Jesus was in His servant too, for he counts these Corinthians better than himself. To be among them with a rod would be no joy to him. But to hear that they were thriving, and, if God so willed, to find them full of strength in both faith and love — that would be his heart's delight. In such a case he could gladly be weak, and go unfelt as an apostle among them. The hidden powers of his calling would be forgotten, because the one need that could call them out was gone. Meanwhile what he wishes for them is their perfection — their conduct brought into line with their faith.

Whatever men might say about the Apostle, nothing will prevail against the truth. Go against the truth and we lose our power. We are strong only as we stand for the truth, whether it is the truth about Christ or the truth about His people. He was content to be weak in his own frailties if it led to them standing strong for the truth. He longed for their "perfecting" — the complete knowledge of Christianity and the mind of the Lord.

Paul's weakness leaned on the strength of God, and it made him glad — above all if it made the Corinthians spiritually strong. He wanted no control over them. He wanted God's strength to work in them in full measure. Their perfection, or mature growth, was the object of his labours with them.

He was not master of the Corinthians for his own gain. He was content to be weak so that they might be strong, for what he wanted was their perfection. So he wrote while he was away, in the hope that when he came he would not have to act harshly. The Lord had given him authority for building up, not for tearing down.

He prayed that they would give him no such occasion. He did not pray that his claim would be proved valid, but that they would live as God's people should — even if he lacked such proofs, or was belittled ever so much. Then there would be no need for a display of power. Their honourable walk would speak for the truth. And the apostle could say, "For we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth. For we are glad when we are weak and you are strong." And he prayed for this too, their perfecting.

The apostle loved them deeply, and he could rejoice if they were strong, however weak he himself might look. What he sought and prayed for was their perfecting… In all this we see the heart of true ministry. Here is love that forgets itself and pours itself out, simply because it is love. It seeks no gain, except the gain that love counts as gain.

In all this a note of sharpness or severity has not been absent. In verse 10 we have the explanation of why he had written in this way. He expected to be among them for the third time. He wanted this letter to overthrow and clear away the evil, so that when he came he would have only the happy work of building up what is good. He had authority given by the Lord, but it was primarily for building up.

The word translated "destruction" in chapter 10, verse 8 is the same as that translated "pulling down" in verse 4. The word "overthrowing" is possibly better in both places. There is the power of God to overthrow strongholds of unbelief. The same power can overthrow carnal and disobedient believers, if the sad necessity arises. Yet the normal and proper use of that power is for the edification, or building up of the saints.

Notice that the apostle refers to his personal authority as an apostle. But he uses it in patience, for he had it for the purpose of edification and not for destruction. He uses it to bring back to obedience and uprightness all those who would listen. And so, preserving Christian unity in holiness, he clothes the apostolic authority with the power of the universal conscience of the assembly, guided by the Spirit, so far as there was a conscience at work.

He might have come with the rod, and no doubt his immediate presence would have stopped many abuses. He knew the power he had "to punish every disobedience," and to be severe in his use of the authority the Lord had given him "for building up and not for tearing down." If his object had been to establish his claim to authority, this would have been the quickest way. But the question with him was how to use that authority for building up. His delight was to see obedience flowing from grace… and to see order produced by inward life and not outward restrictions.

He had written these things while absent. He hoped that when he visited them there would be no need for him to use sharpness. That power was given to him by the Lord for their edification, and not for their overthrow. Since we have the flesh in us, we need to be careful. If the need to use sharpness arises, it must not be used in the malice of the flesh, seeking to bring about the overthrow of a brother.

See how careful Paul was in using apostolic power. He used it when necessary (1 Tim. 1:20), but only when necessary. The assembly should be just as careful, and just as firm, when it has to use Scriptural discipline against an offender.

He is no doubt referring to his apostolic calling and power, but we also, in a lesser way, are in the same position. Are we sure that we are bending our efforts to edification and not to destruction — building up, not pulling down? … Let us seek help to be useful in building up the saints and, it may be, in recovering them. Let us avoid distressing and scattering the people of God.

Verse 11 gives us the closing desires. If we are perfected, encouraged, of one mind, and at peace, we will indeed do well. The Corinthians clearly needed these things. But we need them just as badly. The church of God today, as a whole, is in much the same condition. There is plenty of immaturity, discouragement, disunity, and strife — and these things seem to flow one out of the other.

"Finally, brothers, rejoice." (Not farewell, but rejoice.) The believer's joy, and his boasting too, is in the Lord.

In his closing greetings the Apostle desires that these saints may rejoice. Whatever failure may have marked them, they can still rejoice in the Lord. He also desires that they may be perfect, fully answering to the Lord's mind for them.

The first is, "Be perfect." We think this is not addressed to the individual believer. It is to the assembly of God at Corinth. The word itself shows this. It is not the common word meaning "full age," that is, maturity in the Christian life. It is a word that means mending something into a complete whole, in which every part has its own place. It is the word used, for example, in Matthew 4:21 for mending nets. So the apostle urged these Corinthian believers to allow no breaks or quarrels among themselves.

At the start of the letter Paul had written that God was the God of all comfort, or encouragement. He had shown the Corinthian saints the source of it all. So he might well urge them to be encouraged or comforted. Whichever meaning of the word you take, there is nothing we need more... It is an immense thing, therefore, to know where to turn.

Scripture after scripture presses the Lord's desire that we should be of one mind, or likeminded. Of course this does not mean that everyone must think alike on every subject. But if all had in them that self-effacing mind which was also in Christ Jesus, what perfect harmony would follow! Shall we put it to the test?

The apostle says, "Agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you." He means that if they did not live in peace, they must not expect His company to stay with them long.

In 2 Corinthians 13:11 Paul wanted the Corinthian disciples to be at peace, as the way to enjoy the presence of God. That peace at once brings in the love that goes with it, and the two make one thought. Love and peace were together one idea of the blessed power and sweetness of the divine presence.

The exhortations of Scripture are fulfilled by us without effort as our thoughts are upon Him, for beholding the Lord's glory, we are transformed into the same image. And what an object is He for our contemplation — the One who was here on earth in lowliness and subjection to God, who never strove with men for His rights, who was gentle to all... It is as we contemplate Him that we shall be comforted and carry out these exhortations, and the God of love and peace shall be with us.

This common way of greeting among relatives becomes holy when the church takes it up. Five of the letters close with the exhortation to greet one another with a holy kiss, or kiss of love. Romans 16:16; 1 Corinthians 16:20; 2 Corinthians 13:12; 1 Thessalonians 5:26; 1 Peter 5:14. When Paul said goodbye to the elders of Ephesus, they wept bitterly, fell on his neck and kissed him.

Paul urges them all to show their love to one another by greeting "with a holy kiss." They can use the ordinary customs of their country for showing affection. But for Christians that affection must be sincere and "holy."

This instruction, often though not always added at the end of his letters, appears in both letters to the Corinthians. The state of this church shows how fitting that deliberate repetition is. Friends need no prompting to show their love openly. Now division is the very poison of love. The apostle knew all too well that it had already done dangerous work at Corinth. But the Spirit was resisting the flesh and winning. To help them strengthen their love for one another, he adds these words. Where love is a stranger to the heart, love's outward forms are hard to keep. That hard duty still binds all who bear the name of Christ. The unwilling keeper of the rule can make his own reluctance his teacher, and let it lead him to think again and repent.

If they fulfilled verse 11, they would have no difficulty among themselves. No jealousies, quarrels or evil speaking would stop them greeting one another in holiness. The spirit of faction, the desire to boast of belonging to Paul or Peter or Apollos, would be thrown out.

What is more, "all the saints" greeted them. The blameworthy unspiritual state of Corinth had not turned the affections of the saints away from them. The saints elsewhere had not formed a party against them. Nor, worse still, had they split into parties themselves after hearing about the divisions at Corinth. All the saints greeted them, despite their failures.

Scripture says, "Greet one another with a holy kiss." If I meet a brother in Germany or France, I always kiss him. When I come back to England it seems so cold. Yet the spirit of that instruction is clear, and I can act on it here as well as in France.

In each of its clauses this blessing speaks pointedly to the hearts and consciences of the Corinthian saints. It also commends itself directly to the church of God, in all its varied conditions, to the end of time. God is the essence and power of this blessing, in the threefold display of His nature and His love. In each and all of these He had been wronged at Corinth. Grace had been terribly abused. Love had been repaid with quick-witted indifference. Division had taken the place of the sweet and blessed fellowship of the Spirit.

As to the order of these words of blessing, "the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ" comes first. It is the essential means and power of salvation, and without it neither love nor fellowship could be enjoyed. "The love of God" comes next, placed between the other two. That love both gives rise to the grace shown in His Son, and is also the end for which all counsel and action are ordained. "The fellowship of the Holy Spirit" comes last, as that which pervades the living body of Christ.

Notice in passing that the Lord Jesus, who is so often spoken of as the Second Person, comes first here. The Holy Spirit comes first in 1 Corinthians 12. So all such terms as First, Second or Third Person must be used with considerable reserve.

Although it is true that nowhere in Scripture is it stated in so many words that the Holy Spirit is God, yet the way the names of the Father, Son and Spirit are linked together plainly shows the truth of the Deity of the Spirit along with that of the Father and the Son. Believers are baptized "in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" (Matthew 28:19). Could that formula be used if it were not that the Spirit is God, as the Father is God and the Son is God?

Communion means sharing or participating. So the communion of the Holy Spirit means sharing or participating in His thoughts, affections, purposes. I may sit on the same seat with a person on a train, riding for miles side by side, and yet have no communion, because we are strangers... On the other hand, I may meet a complete stranger, and in a few minutes find we can enjoy full communion, because he is a child of God and one who loves His word. We have a common life and common objects, and that makes communion.

Here were the Corinthians making little circles round various teachers, each circle throbbing with admiration for the teacher in question. To such, the Apostle says, "the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all". He had already told them, "All the saints greet you", and told them to greet one another with a holy kiss. Did they respond? To get away in mind from the confined and stuffy atmosphere of sectarianism into the fresh currents of the Spirit is a blessing indeed.

Yet for this very reason one feels the lack of understanding that turns such pointed words of blessing into a fixed, unchanging form for all sorts of different occasions... God gives no licence to confusion in the assemblies. In the same way He does not approve those who walk in pride and passion, in self-will, insult, and quarrelling — however graciously He may act when they begin to judge themselves. We need not only the word of God, but His Spirit to apply it rightly. Otherwise we may twist even that word to real harm without meaning to, cheering where reproof is called for, and rebuking where comfort would be better.

The grace of the Lord Jesus was known by the Corinthians, as the Apostle had acknowledged in chapter 8. It is another and further thing for it to be with us all. Then we shall all be pervaded by its blessed influence. So with the love of God; and so too with the communion of the Holy Spirit. In this blessing grace is put first, for if that fails with us, all will fail.

These are carefully chosen words, and they deserve our earnest attention. Every clause speaks straight to the hearts and consciences of the Corinthian believers. Every clause also speaks to the church of God, in all its varied conditions, to the end of time. God is the essence and power of this blessing, in the threefold display of His nature and His love. In each and all of these the Corinthians had wronged Him. They had badly abused grace. They had answered love with clever indifference. Quarrelling had replaced the sweet and blessed fellowship of the Spirit.

It shows a lack of understanding to turn such pointed words of blessing into a fixed, unchanging form for every kind of occasion. It is as if we had only one way to send people away... We need the word of God, and we need His Spirit to apply it well. Otherwise we may twist even that word into real harm. We may cheer someone who needs reproof, and rebuke someone who needs comfort. But what grace this servant shows, sending such a parting message to all the believers in Corinth! Poor, weak, unworthy — what can believers lack when this blessing is made good to them?... What a portion, to be with us all and made sure for ever!

Notice the order. "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ" comes first, because grace is the essential means and power of salvation. Without it we could enjoy neither love nor fellowship. Next comes "the love of God," set between the other two. That love gives rise to the grace shown in His Son. It is also the end for which God orders all His counsel and action. Last comes "the fellowship of the Holy Spirit," which fills the living body of Christ.

His words to Paul were, "My grace is sufficient for you" (chapter 12). They are wonderful words. No words that ever came from His mouth have given greater comfort to His tested and suffering people... There is the ocean of grace at one end of the sentence, and the thimble of our need at the other. The ocean is enough for the thimble. And that is true not only for special days of pressure, but always and for all.

The love of God lies behind the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ; it is the source of all good. God has brought us to His love. It is to be our home for ever. But it is also to be with us until we reach that home. No power above, around or beneath can separate us from it, now or for ever.

Many people twist the thought of communion into a certain state of feeling, or into strange and rare experiences. Some would say they have no time for communion. But how unhealthy all this!... The communion of the Holy Spirit is simply sharing in His thoughts. If the word of God occupies us, if the love of Christ attracts us, if the will of God controls us, that is participation with the blessed Spirit.

We should prize and cherish the communion of the Holy Spirit. It stands outside all the parties and divisions in the Christian world... It would free us from all our opinions and prejudices and narrowness of heart. These have no part in this communion.

Nowhere in Scripture is it said in so many words that the Holy Spirit is God. Yet the names of the Father, Son and Spirit are linked together. That linking plainly shows the truth of the Deity of the Spirit, along with that of the Father and the Son.

If its full meaning came home to them, they would turn back and read his earnest words again. They would find what is involved in this threefold birthright, which belongs to every soul born of God.