Are they ministers of Christ? (I speak as being beside myself) *I* above measure [so]; in labours exceedingly abundant, in stripes to excess, in prisons exceedingly abundant, in deaths oft.
Rival teachers at Corinth claimed to serve Christ better than Paul. He answers with a record of beatings, prisons and brushes with death, and calls his own words the talk of a madman. Two questions follow. What proves that a person serves Christ? And why does telling it cost Paul so much?
Paul hated this subject. One writer contrasts his pain with the ease of those who enjoy telling their own story.
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.
The rivals claimed the title too. Paul lets the claim stand for a moment and asks what they can show for it.
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.
Paul could have pointed to miracles. He pointed to wounds, and one writer says why that proof is stronger.
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 phrase reads like a competition. Commentators differ. Many read it as a comparison; Kelly does not.
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.
Behind each item stands a body broken again and again.
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!
The rivals who attacked Paul are the unwitting reason we know any of this.
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.
One writer names a single occasion behind those words.
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.
The right response to this catalogue is not analysis.
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.
- Forced. Paul shrank from talking about himself. He speaks only because the rivals' boasting was dishonouring the Lord and damaging the saints.
- Scars. Asked who truly serves Christ, he shows the marks on his body, not his achievements — a good soldier showing his wounds.
- Proof. Another power can copy signs and wonders. It cannot fake years of patient toil and suffering.
- Not a contest. Kelly reads the words as no comparison at all. Paul passes over his miracles and his successes, and points to what he suffered.
- Effect. We have the list only because his enemies attacked him. It calls less for study than for thanksgiving, and it shames our lukewarmness.
From the Jews five times have I received forty [stripes], save one.
Paul is listing what proves he is a servant of Christ, and his first item is a whipping — five of them, all from his own nation. Why point to scars instead of successes, and what does "forty lashes less one" mean?
Paul answers his critics with a list of his own. One writer notes what he leaves out of it:
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.
The number is not random. Israel's law set a limit of forty strokes. The missing stroke has an explanation:
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.
The whip itself gives a second reason for the odd number:
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.
Thirteen strokes of a three-thonged whip make thirty-nine. The count stops just short of the limit.
The local Jewish court gave this punishment, and the synagogue was where it happened. Paul had once dealt out the same treatment in the same rooms.
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.
These blows came from Paul's own nation. One writer sees his old persecuting zeal now rebounding on him:
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.
The five floggings come to a total worth pausing over:
Five times from the Jews he received forty stripes less one — 195 stripes given in five doses.
The next verse lists shipwrecks. Commenting on those, another writer draws a wider conclusion about how much of Paul's story we do not have:
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.
At Paul's conversion the Lord had told Ananias what lay ahead for him. The whippings are that word coming true:
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.
- Credentials. Asked to prove his ministry, Paul points to scars, not miracles or success. The list starts with stripes.
- Counted. Israel's law allowed forty strokes. The Jews stopped at 39 in case they miscounted, and a three-thonged whip reached that number in thirteen strokes.
- Reversed. He had once imprisoned and beaten believers in every synagogue; he took the same punishment in the same buildings.
- Costly. The blows came from his own people, and grace turned that rebound of his old zeal into lasting honour.
- Unrecorded. Five floggings came to 195 strokes, and the written record holds only part of the story. The day of rewards will reveal it all.
Thrice have I been scourged, once I have been stoned, three times I have suffered shipwreck, a night and day I passed in the deep
Rivals at Corinth were boasting about their credentials. Paul answered with a list nobody would envy, and it raises a question: why would a servant of Christ treat his scars as proof of his calling?
Paul knew that comparing himself with his rivals was unwise. He did it anyway, and what he set before them was the cost of his service.
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.
The rods were a Roman punishment. Roman law protected a citizen like Paul from it, and he once claimed that protection.
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).
Scripture tells one of those three beatings in full. What stands out there is not the pain but the response to it.
"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).
The one stoning happened at Lystra. Paul could not shake the memory, because he had once stood on the other side of that violence, at the death of Stephen.
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.
The list was not complete when Paul wrote it. The famous shipwreck of Acts 27 was still ahead.
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.
Paul does not say how he stayed alive in the water.
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.
Set beside the other great figures of Scripture, Paul's record of suffering is in a category of its own.
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.
The list carries two lessons.
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.
- Scars, not credentials. Asked to prove he was a minister of Christ, Paul pointed to his wounds, not his successes. He had scars to show, and he showed them.
- Rods. Roman law should have spared a citizen this. One of the three beatings ended with Paul singing in prison at midnight, his wounds still unwashed.
- Stones. The single stoning at Lystra left him for dead, and it echoed the day he had helped stone Stephen.
- The deep. Three shipwrecks and a night and a day in the sea. The shipwreck of Acts 27 was still ahead when he wrote.
- The measure. Paul stands alone among the people of God in Scripture for what he suffered. Yet his boast is in what humbled him, and it leaves him leaning wholly on God.
in journeyings often, in perils of rivers, in perils of robbers, in perils from [my own] race, in perils from [the] nations, in perils in [the] city, in perils in [the] desert, in perils on [the] sea, in perils among false brethren;
Paul's rivals at Corinth boasted about their standing, so he answers them with a list of dangers instead of a list of successes. He names danger after danger — rivers, robbers, his own people, foreigners, the city, the wilderness, the sea — and ends with the one danger no road could avoid: false brothers.
The stripes and beatings of the previous verses were single events. This verse describes a way of life: going out again and again, whatever it cost. One writer marks the difference.
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.
The verse opens with travel, not with danger. Paul did not pick these roads for comfort, and he carried no protection of his own.
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.
Paul lists his own countrymen and the Gentiles, then the city and the wilderness. He was equally unsafe among crowds and alone.
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 term is not a petty thief but a violent bandit — and it is the same word used of men the Gospels put beside Christ.
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.
The list ends where no traveller can escape by changing route. The same phrase appears in only one other place in the New Testament. Writing on that passage, one commentator describes what these men are.
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.
Another writer sorts the dangers by where they came from, and traces the last one to Satan himself.
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.
Much of what this verse summarises never appears in the narrative of Paul's travels.
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.
The dangers came because the work was real. Where there is little cost, one writer suggests, the reason may lie closer to home.
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.
- Danger by obedience — the roads were dangerous because Paul went where his Master sent him, not where it was safe.
- Danger from strangers — bandits, floods and the sea; the Lord alone was his defence.
- Danger from both sides — his own people and the Gentiles hated the same work, so city and desert were both unsafe.
- Danger from inside — "false brothers" are men who took the Christian name without the reality, and no change of route could avoid them.
- Danger unrecorded — the list runs far beyond what Acts reports, and its length shows how much his service cost.
in labour and toil, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness.
Rivals at Corinth were measuring themselves against Paul. He answers with a list none of them would want: not honours, but the daily wear on his body in Christ's service. Why would a man prove his ministry by naming his hunger, his sleepless nights and his missing coat?
Paul hated talking about himself. But silence would have left the Corinthians to men who traded on outward advantages.
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.
Behind "toil and hardship" stand two Greek words. One of them carries the sweat of ordinary human labour, and Paul used it of his own night work.
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.
The verse lists hunger and thirst, then lists going without food separately — "fastings often" in older versions. That is not repetition. The difference shows where the empty stomach came from.
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.
Both kinds ran together in his life, and the lack of clothing was as literal as the hunger.
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.
Read as a résumé, the list is a strange one. It proves nothing about Paul's ability — which is exactly its point.
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's endurance was real. But one writer sets it beside the service of Christ, and Paul comes second.
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).
- Forced. Paul lists his hardships only because rivals were pushing their own looks, speech, money and social standing — and damaging the saints.
- Costly. "Toil and hardship" renders two words for grinding labour. Paul carried it night and day, on top of his apostolic work.
- Chosen. Going without food is listed apart from hunger and thirst. Some of his emptiness he chose for the gospel; some came with the road.
- Humbling. The list records no achievements. It shows a vessel emptied, and a man wholly dependent on a God who proved faithful.
- Derived. Every line brought him near his Master. Yet he was only an imperfect copy of the Servant fed by food the world knows nothing of.
Besides those things that are without, the crowd [of cares] pressing on me daily, the burden of all the assemblies.
Paul closes a long list of outward hardships by naming one more thing — and it is not something done to his body. It is a weight that arrives every day, and one writer calls it the most wearing suffering of all.
One writer notes that Paul's list was not complete, and shows how its last phrase explains the pressure named before it:
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 word "care" here is not a job description. It describes what the churches did to his heart:
"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.
Beatings reached his body. This reached his mind.
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.
What made it wearing was not one crisis but the endless small friction of life among believers:
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.
One commentator raises the obvious objection to a care this wide, and answers 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.
Paul carries this load without asking for relief. The same writer draws a line between that care and a careless imitation of it:
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.
Paul's churches had real problems. His answer to trouble differs from a common instinct today:
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.
Such love cannot stop at the few believers we happen to like:
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.
- Pressure. The verse names a daily weight: anxious concern for all the churches. It sits on top of everything already listed.
- Care. Not running the churches, but feeling for them. Paul handled the highest doctrine and the smallest local detail with the same heart.
- Deeper. Chains and beatings left his mind at rest; he could sing in prison. Trouble among believers filled him with dismay.
- Wider. "All the churches" was no overreach — love has no boundary line, even while duty keeps to its own path.
- Costlier. He never asked for relief. The burden was also his glory. He did not walk away from troubled churches; he prayed and faced the difficulty.
Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is stumbled, and I burn not?
Paul ends a long list of beatings, shipwrecks and hunger with two questions. They turn away from what happened to his body and toward what happened to his heart. The last pressure he names is not danger. It is the weakness of other people.
One writer hears two kinds of fellow-feeling in these questions. One is for the troubled conscience. The other is for the person tripped up by someone else's behaviour.
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.
(Some writers here quote an older translation. The ESV reads: "Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant?")
One writer ranks this daily, repeated work above the beatings and shipwrecks.
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.
Paul's wide reach never dulled his attention to one person at a time. That mix is where most of us fail.
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.
One writer traces this sensitivity back to Christ, who carries His people's burdens. Paul had a share of that same care. The same writer names who these questions shame.
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.
Nehemiah, centuries earlier, burned with anger at those who oppressed his people. One writer sets him beside Paul.
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.
What should we do when something in a church is wrong? One writer applies Paul's example to us.
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.
Paul is not competing with the rivals who traded on their dignity. One writer shows what he boasts in instead.
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!
- Burden. The heaviest of Paul's sufferings was not physical. It was the daily concern for all the churches, and this verse is the sample.
- Sympathy. He entered into the difficulties of the over-anxious conscience. His soul caught fire when someone else's bad behaviour tripped a believer up.
- Source. He did not manufacture that sympathy. He received it from Christ, who carries His people's burdens, and it left no room for indifference.
- Reach. He held the highest doctrine and the smallest personal detail at once. We tire when one or two gatherings go wrong.
- Result. Such a heart stays and works at the trouble instead of running away. In the end it boasts not in achievements but in weakness, which leaves it dependent on God.
If it is needful to boast, I will boast in the things which concern my infirmity.
Paul has just listed beatings, shipwrecks, hunger and daily pressure. Now he tells the Corinthians which boast he will own. The verse turns the contest upside down. His credentials are not his triumphs. They are the things that show how weak he is.
Paul shrank from speaking about himself. But rivals in Corinth were parading their own advantages, and the honour of Christ's ministry was at stake.
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.
Paul now brings a second boast. It leaves nothing for self-praise.
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.
Paul closes the chapter with his escape from Damascus. The striking thing is how ordinary it was.
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.
His miracles and visions set him apart from every other believer. His weaknesses did not — and that is part of why he picks them.
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 is not the end of the story. One writer sets it against Paul's past among the Pharisees, the strictest religious group of his day.
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.
There is a boasting that is right. One commentator draws the line: it depends on which self you look at.
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.
- Pressed — Paul boasts only because rivals paraded presence, speech, money and social position, and dishonoured Christ's ministry by it.
- Chosen — He answers by boasting in what men are ashamed of. Before God, self-praise counts for nothing.
- Proved — The Damascus escape is his exhibit: no angel, no opened doors, just a basket through a window.
- Shared — He passes over the visions only he had. He picks the weaknesses other believers can share.
- Exchanged — Glory in your place in Christ. Of yourself, glory only in what puts the flesh down, so the power of Christ may rest on you.
The God and Father of the Lord Jesus knows -- he who is blessed for ever -- that I do not lie.
Paul has just listed beatings, shipwrecks, hunger, and the daily weight of care for all the churches. Instead of resting his case there, he calls God as his witness. Why would a man whose scars were public need an oath at all — and why this Name?
One writer reads the oath as both an appeal and a place to hide:
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.
This was not a one-off. The same writer, commenting elsewhere on a similar oath, notes the habit — and what it exposed about Paul's rivals:
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.
His opponents' credentials rested on their own assurance. Paul's rested on Someone else's knowledge of him.
The title has two halves. One writer ties each to a way of viewing Christ:
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."
So the Witness Paul calls is the One who stands in that relationship to Christ — and, through Christ, to Paul and to every believer.
Watch what follows the oath. A man defending his record might reach for something impressive. Paul reaches for a basket.
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.
Another writer sees God's care in the method itself:
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.
One writer reads the basket alongside what comes next in the letter:
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.
- Witness. Paul cannot prove his sufferings to Corinth. So he calls the one Witness nobody can cross-examine, and from that Presence he expects his verdict to come out in triumph.
- Name. The Witness is "the God and Father of the Lord Jesus": God, when Christ is looked at as man; Father, when He is viewed as Son. In Christ, believers come into that same relationship.
- Cover. The great Name is also a screen. Ashamed of anything that looked like self-praise, Paul hides his "folly" beneath it.
- Content. The oath backs a basket, not a miracle. No angel opened the doors, and only a self-forgetting man would record that for ever.
- Pattern. God preserved His servant by a means that humbled him. The man let down a wall in chapter 11 is the man caught up into glory in chapter 12 — strength made perfect in weakness.
In Damascus the ethnarch of Aretas the king kept the city of the Damascenes shut up, wishing to take me;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
and through a window in a basket I was let down by the wall, and escaped his hands.
Paul ends a long, painful list of hardships with a story with no drama in it: a man in a basket, sliding down a city wall. It is a strange way to end such a list — and that is why he chose it.
Paul had things he could have used to outrank his critics. He passed over all of them.
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.
Nothing about the escape was supernatural.
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.
The Greek word here names a hamper, and Acts uses a different word for the same escape.
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."
Set that against the man's past, and the fall is severe.
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."
The chapter break hides a deliberate pairing.
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.
Watch how Paul names himself in each of the two scenes.
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."
Paul adds a detail the account in Acts leaves out: the opposition had official backing.
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.
- Weakness chosen. Paul could have boasted of miracles and revelations. He boasted instead of what shows his weakness, because other believers can share that ground.
- Weakness unaided. No angel, no opened doors, no blinded guards; the escape was as ordinary as a hamper over a wall, and he put it on record for ever.
- Weakness humbling. The proudest of Jerusalem's Pharisees leaves the city in a washing basket. That is the story he chose to tell.
- Weakness lifted. The man let down through a wall is the man caught up into glory. The Lord's own explanation: strength is made perfect in weakness.
- Weakness owned. "I" gets the basket; "a man in Christ" gets the glory. Paul keeps the shame personal and the honour shared.