Well, it is not of profit to me to boast, for I will come to visions and revelations of [the] Lord.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
I know a man in Christ, fourteen years ago, (whether in [the] body I know not, or out of the body I know not, God knows;) such [a one] caught up to [the] third heaven.
Paul has just described his escape from a city, let down the wall in a basket. Now comes the opposite extreme: a man caught up to the highest heaven, described in the third person, fourteen years late, and never named.
One small word carries weight. Paul says he knows this man; he does not say he knew him:
"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.
Watch which experiences Paul is willing to attach to the word "I":
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.
Why keep such an experience quiet for fourteen years? One writer answers by pointing to David:
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 Bible speaks of more than one heaven. Paul names the highest:
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.
This also touches what happens to a believer at death:
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.
Paul could not say whether he was in his body or out of it. That one admission tells us something about death:
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."
The man is Paul, and the vision was his alone. The title "a man in Christ" is not:
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.
- Caught up, not climbing — Paul did not climb to the third heaven. He was taken there, and he could not say whether his body came too.
- Caught up, so unnamed — the man is Paul. He keeps "I" for the basket and the weakness, and gives anything glorious to "a man in Christ."
- Caught up, so silent — fourteen years passed before he mentioned it. Faith does not boast of visions.
- Caught up to the highest — above the air and the stars is the third heaven, the dwelling place of God. Paul also calls it paradise, a garden of delights.
- Caught up, yet shared — the vision was his alone. The place "in Christ" belongs to the weakest believer, and that is where the joy lies.
And I know such a man, (whether in [the] body or out of the body I know not, God knows;)
For the second time Paul says he cannot explain how it happened; only God knows that. What he does name is where he was taken — paradise, which raises the question of where paradise is and who else may reach it.
Paul will not say "I was caught up." One writer explains why he keeps his own name out of it.
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.
Another writer notices which word Paul uses, and when.
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.
One writer takes the repeated "I do not know" as deliberate. It turns our attention away from how it happened.
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.
Paul's uncertainty settles something larger. If a person could not be conscious apart from the body, his question would make no sense.
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"?
One writer treats the third heaven and paradise as one place, and counts the heavens up to it.
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.
Another writer rejects a popular view that puts paradise below the earth.
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.
Commentators differ on how far this reaches. One draws a firm line between standing and experience.
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.
Another sees the wording chosen so that the sphere Paul entered belongs to all who are in Christ, even though only one man saw it.
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.
- Hidden. Paul reports the highest moment of his life as happening to "a man in Christ," never to himself — he will not boast in himself.
- Twice. The repeated "I do not know" is deliberate — it pulls our attention off how it happened and onto what he was given.
- Known. What Paul cannot answer, God can; the very question assumes a person can be conscious apart from the body.
- Paradise. The third heaven is God's dwelling place, and paradise is the same scene — not a compartment below the earth.
- Shared. Commentators differ on whether being caught up was Paul's alone, or a witness to what belongs to everyone in Christ.
that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable things said which it is not allowed to man to utter.
Forced to boast, Paul describes a man carried into paradise who came back with nothing he could repeat. Three questions follow: where is paradise, why could the words not be told, and why does the man who heard them make nothing of himself?
Two verses earlier Paul mentions the third heaven. Here the word is paradise. Are they the same place?
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.
Commentators differ. Another writer keeps the third heaven and paradise apart, and explains what the word paradise itself means.
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.
Older versions read "not lawful for a man to utter." One writer says the issue is not permission but ability.
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.
Set this beside Moses on the mountain.
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.
He brought back no message. He brought back strength.
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.
Who was this man? Paul answers with a description, not a name.
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.
So why keep quiet about it? The danger was never in heaven. It came later, back on earth.
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.
- Place. Paradise is the highest scene Scripture shows, and where believers go at death.
- Privilege. Paul names the man only as "a man in Christ" — a standing every believer already holds.
- Limit. He could not repeat what he heard: back in the body, no human language could carry it.
- Purpose. The visit gave him no message to deliver — it gave him God's presence to draw strength from.
- Protection. In God's presence self is forgotten. The danger comes afterwards, back on earth.
Of such [a one] I will boast, but of myself I will not boast, unless in my weaknesses.
Paul has just described being caught up to the third heaven. Now he speaks of that man as if he were someone else — boasting about him, while refusing to boast about himself.
Paul does not say "I was caught up." He speaks of "such a one," and he keeps that man apart from himself on purpose.
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!
The same pattern runs through the surrounding chapters. Notice which pronoun Paul reaches for when the story is flattering and which when it is not.
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."
The ESV says "this man"; older translations read "such a one." It would be easy to read that phrase as marking Paul off as a special case. Commentators say the opposite: it describes every Christian.
"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?
Half of this verse is a boast Paul does make. One writer calls the refusal to make it a false humility.
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.
The wording matters. Paul boasts for that man, not about himself, and God had His own reasons for the vision and for the long silence about it.
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.
Both boasts do the same work: they take the credit off Paul.
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.
He had other things he could have boasted about: his apostleship, his miracles, his work. He passed them over.
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.
- Two selves. Paul splits himself in two — the man in Christ he will boast about, and the man in the flesh who has nothing to show but weakness.
- Your title. "Such a one" is not Paul's private rank; no one who is a Christian at all can exclude himself from it.
- Not pride. Glorying in your place in Christ is right and owed; refusing it is not humility but legalism in disguise.
- Not credit. He boasts on behalf of that man, not of him — the privilege was grace, the silence for fourteen years was grace, the telling now is grace.
- One aim. Both boasts do the same work. The first makes everything of Christ; the second makes nothing of self. So the Master gets the glory.
For if I shall desire to boast, I shall not be a fool; for I will say [the] truth; but I forbear, lest any one should think as to me above what he sees me [to be], or whatever he may hear of me.
Under pressure from critics at Corinth, Paul has just described being caught up to paradise. Here he stops his own boasting, and gives a reason that turns the subject away from himself.
The restraint here is not modesty about shaky claims. Paul had real material, and he knew the difference between himself and the men who were talking him down.
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.
What silenced him was not a lack of facts. It was his care for someone else's honour.
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.
Paul sets out what people may weigh him by: what they see in him and what they hear from him. That leaves the vision out — though everything revealed to him already belongs to every believer.
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.
Rate a servant by his extraordinary experiences and you will rate him too high. Paul points instead to the people who lived alongside him.
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.
Paul had lived this restraint for years before he wrote about it. Commentators set his silence beside David's, who said nothing about his own victories.
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?
The instinct Paul refused is one every believer carries.
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.
- Truth. Paul's boast would have been factual, not foolish — he had more he could say within the bounds of truth than his critics ever did.
- Restraint. Having the material is not permission to use it; he held back because he was jealous for his Master's glory, not his own.
- Measure. He set the test at what people see in him and hear from him — a test his own revelations could never meet.
- Silence. Paul kept the third heaven to himself for fourteen years, and spoke only under pressure. David too said nothing of the lion and the bear until it served God's glory.
- Warning. Our nature jumps at a striking experience because it makes us look more devoted than we are. Let people value the walk they can see, not an idol.
And that I might not be exalted by the exceeding greatness of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn for the flesh, a messenger of Satan that he might buffet me, that I might not be exalted.
Paul had just described being caught up to the third heaven, and the very next thing he reports is pain. An unmatched revelation and a wound arrive together, and both come from God's care for one man's soul.
The danger was not in heaven but in coming back down. The risk lay in what the old nature would do with the privilege once it was over.
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.
The word translated "thorn" is stronger than the English suggests.
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.
Paul does not say the thorn happened to him. He says it was given, and much rests on that one word.
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.
The thorn is a messenger of Satan, sent to strike Paul blow after blow. So who stands behind the blows?
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.
The silence about what the thorn was is a kindness to every later reader.
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.
The thorn was not the price of the vision. It was what made the vision useful to anyone else.
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.
- Cause. Heaven itself left the flesh in Paul untouched. Pride waited for him on the way back down, not while he stood in God's presence.
- Gift. The thorn was given — a stake, not a splinter, and a mercy from a Father's hand not an accident that happened to him.
- Agent. Satan struck the blows, but God stood behind him as first cause, and He turned the enemy's malice against the enemy.
- Aim. It was preventive, not punishment: sent so a fall would never happen, not to restore him after one.
- Reach. God leaves the thorn unnamed, so every believer can find his own. And only a broken vessel lets heaven's light shine out.
For this I thrice besought the Lord that it might depart from me.
Paul had just described visions and revelations, and then a thorn in the flesh came to keep him from being lifted up. Verse 8 records what he did about it. He prayed three times, and the thorn stayed.
The thorn came as a messenger of Satan, and Paul's first move was prayer. One writer makes this the pattern for anyone under attack:
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.
Notice how he prayed:
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.
Paul takes this to "the Lord" — that is, to Christ. One writer explains why that address suits the subject:
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 touched Paul's work and his standing as a preacher:
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.
Writers compare Paul's three prayers with the Lord's threefold prayer about the cup. They differ on what the comparison shows. One sees a likeness:
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.
Another writer starts further back, with the wish to escape:
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."
The thorn stayed. But the reply Paul received was not silence, and it was not less than what he asked:
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.
A refusal does not close the door on asking:
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.
- Asked rightly. The thorn sent Paul to prayer. He did not mention it once and move on; he pleaded, and came back to it three times.
- Asked the Lord. He took it to Christ as Lord. A servant brings his Master what touches his service.
- Asked wrongly. He wanted the thorn gone because he thought it hindered his usefulness. He had to learn that the flesh is the real hindrance.
- Asked and refused. The Lord answered the prayer without granting the request. He gave something better than removal.
- Asked and changed. The man who begged three times to lose the thorn ended up taking pleasure in the weakness he had wanted gone.
And he said to me, My grace suffices thee; for [my] power is perfected in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather boast in my weaknesses, that the power of the Christ may dwell upon me.
Paul had asked three times for one thing — the removal of the thorn — and what came back was not removal but a promise about the Giver Himself. The verse turns a refused request into a discovery: weakness is where Christ's power works.
Paul did not pray casually or half-heartedly. Still, he never got what he asked for. One writer reads the reply as an answer of a completely different kind:
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.
The promise is not grace in the abstract. Twice the Lord says "My," and that one word sets the size of the supply:
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.
If the Lord could remove it and did not, the thorn must be doing something no removal could do. One writer weighs the two options against each other:
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.
The refusal, then, is not coldness. Another writer imagines the Lord's reasoning behind 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."
"Made perfect in weakness" is not a paradox to admire but a working rule. Power shows itself only where the person adds nothing:
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.
This explains why believers never graduate into self-sufficiency:
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.
Before the promise comes the phrase "He said to me." The comfort is not a doctrine held at second hand:
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.
Once Paul knows the reason, his attitude to the thorn flips:
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.
- Thorn. It stayed on purpose. Better an afflicted man than a proud one. Better Christ's sympathy in the trial than His hand removing it.
- Voice. Paul did not read that Christ is enough; he heard Christ say it to him. The voice of Christ changes everything, and each person must hear it for themselves.
- Mine. The promise is measured by the One who makes it: not grace, but My grace; not strength, but My strength.
- Weakness. Christ's strength is not perfected in our strength. The thorn is not power; it is the preparation for power.
- Boasting. The end is not resignation but gladness. The thing Paul begged to lose becomes the thing he boasts in, because it makes room for the power of Christ.
Wherefore I take pleasure in weaknesses, in insults, in necessities, in persecutions, in straits, for Christ for when I am weak, then I am powerful.
Paul names five kinds of trouble, and then says he is glad of them. Painful experience had taught him a paradox: when his own strength ran out, Christ's strength worked through him.
Paul had been taken up to the third heaven. What that visit did to him is not what we would expect.
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.
A thorn in the flesh came with that privilege. One writer weighs it against what Paul would have had without it.
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.
Where the ESV says Paul is content with weakness, older translations read that he takes pleasure in it. That is more than putting up with trouble.
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.
The hardships on the list are not random. Each came for Christ's sake, and each did two things at once.
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."
One writer sets two reasons for welcoming trouble side by side.
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.
What he learned reversed everything he thought about his own usefulness.
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.
A life stripped of self-confidence sounds bleak. The record says otherwise.
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.
What Paul learned is not just for apostles. The rule also works in reverse.
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.
- Cause. Great privilege made the thorn necessary. Heaven's height called for lowness on earth, because "we do not know how to be weak."
- Exchange. God did not take the thorn away; He gave something better — Christ's sympathy in the trial instead of rescue out of it.
- Reach. The five words — weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, calamities — cover every kind of pressure, and each one is borne for Christ's sake.
- Result. Emptiness is not the end of usefulness but the condition of it. Christ uses only the weak, and in that weakness Paul was invincible.
- Rule. We are never so strong as when we feel weak. We are never so weak as when we think we are strong — as Peter found out.