2:12 It is not clear exactly when this visit to Troas occurs in the sequence of Paul’s travels. The point to be taken is Paul’s continued inner anguish for the Corinthians. Picture him there at Troas, preaching but in turmoil as he anxiously awaits the arrival of Titus to hear word of how the Corinthians are doing; perhaps Titus had recently been sent to Corinth with the “tearful letter” and Paul was wondering how it would be received. In any case, as he waits, anxious, he preaches—the natural meaning of a “door” being “opened” for Paul.

This door was opened “in the Lord”—that is, in Christ. That Christ is meant by “Lord” is apparent both from the previous three uses of “Lord” (Gk. kyrios), which all refer to Christ (1:2, 3, 14), as well as Paul’s pervasive theological conviction of union with Christ, which occurs twice in the immediately following context (“in Christ”; 2:14, 17). Paul is saying that the door standing open was an opportunity given him as one united to Christ and representing him in apostolic solidarity. The living Christ was guiding Paul’s steps and opening opportunities to represent the Savior.

2:13 But an open door before us is not enough. We must have the freedom and motivation to step through it. This Paul lacked. His “spirit was not at rest.” In 7:5 Paul will say something strikingly similar of his experience in Macedonia: “our bodies had no rest.” Probably referring to roughly the same time period, traveling from Troas to Macedonia, Paul means he was utterly destitute of peace and calm, whether inside (“spirit”; 2:13) or out (“bodies”; 7:5). All was turmoil.

Why did he lack inner peace? Not for breach of conscience; not for fear of the future; not for rejection by enemies; not for financial distress. He did not have his friend. “I did not find my brother Titus there.” The nineteenth-century Anglican bishop J. C. Ryle remarked that the world “is a dark place. It is a lonely place. It is a disappointing place. The brightest sunbeam in it is a friend. Friendship halves our sorrows and doubles our joys.”12 The simple act of human solidarity renders the worst of experiences bearable and injects even delight into the most horrible of what this life brings, for it is shared. This Paul knows.

2:14 But human solidarity and friendship, profoundly strengthening as it is, is not the ultimate comfort. God himself is (cf. 2 Tim. 4:17). And not only God’s presence but his ongoing work, despite all adversities, through us. And so Paul moves into one of the most beautiful depictions of gospel ministry in all the NT.

Even though Titus could not make it to Troas, Paul is not beholden to human vicissitudes and earthly circumstance. God rules over all. Therefore Paul can thank him. For when human strategies come to dead ends and our spirits are not at rest, even there—indeed, according to the overall message of 2 Corinthians, especially there—God is “always” and “everywhere” (lit., “in every place”) at work. Sometimes we face adversities in ministry. Always God is working.

The verb here rendered “leads . . . in triumphal procession” (Gk. thriambeuō) is used just one other place in the NT (Col. 2:15). There it refers to the spiritual enemies of the gospel being triumphed over in the cross. Here it is Paul and his comrades who are being triumphed over. But what does the word mean? Almost certainly Paul has in mind the Roman postvictory military procession to which this word (with its Latin equivalent triumphare) alludes. Murray Harris outlines the picture:

At the head of the procession came the magistrates and the senate, followed by trumpeters and some spoils of wars such as vessels of gold. . . . Then came the flute players, ahead of white oxen destined to be sacrificed in the temples, along with some representative captives from the conquered territory, including such dignitaries as the king, driven in chains in front of the ornate chariot of the general. . . . The victorious soldiers followed, shouting “Io triumphe!” (“Hail, triumphant one!”). As the procession ascended the Capitoline Hill, some of the leading captives (usually royal figures or the tallest and strongest of the conquered warriors) were taken aside into the adjoining prison and executed.13

Paul understands himself to be a prisoner led along in triumph. By whom? He has just spoken of not being outmaneuvered by Satan (2 Cor. 2:11). Here he speaks of “God . . . in Christ” as the triumphant one who has conquered Paul in battle—a blessed defeat, a liberating captivity, a freeing enslavement. The deeply paradoxical nature of Christian life and ministry that informs this entire letter comes through clearly. Paul the captive is exulting in the victory of his captor.

And as he is led in procession, a certain aroma spreads. Though there may be a connotation of the aroma of OT sacrifices, the Roman military background appears to remain in the foreground for contextual meaning. This leads us to remember the many smells in the air during such a triumphal procession, as incense would be offered along the route and various perfumes and flowers would have been emitting their aromatic odors as well. But in the case of Paul’s apostolic ministry, the aroma being emitted is not simply pleasing to the nose but life-giving to the heart: “the knowledge of him.” Knowledge as an NT category, we remember, is not merely arid cognitive apprehension but relational and a matter of the heart. To breathe in the gospel as it is preached by God’s happy prisoners is to be welcomed into knowing the living Christ.

2:15–16 But not all sinners smell this aroma in a saving way. Paul continues the incense/smell metaphor in verse 15. “Of Christ” is fronted—“Christ’s aroma are we . . .” To be a Christian is not simply to assent to a certain set of doctrines but to smell a certain way. Ultimately this is an aroma “to God,” the supreme overseer of this procession. But the aroma goes into the air “among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” Just as the celebratory confetti floats down on both teams’ fans in the stadium at the end of a championship game, the same gospel message goes out to all but only some receive it as good news. To others it only further hardens them. The present tense of the two verbs underscores the active dynamism of the gospel as it lands on various hearers (cf. Heb. 4:12).

Paul sets up a chiasm here as he continues into 2 Corinthians 2:16:

(A)  among those who are being saved

(B)  among those who are perishing

(B')  to one a fragrance from death to death

(A')  to the other a fragrance from life to life

To those being saved, the gospel is a fragrance “from life to life.” To the perishing, the gospel is a smell that is “from death to death.” Thus begins the language of “life” and “death” that will become more prominent later in the letter, especially chapter 4. But what does it mean for a hearing of the gospel and a seeing of its unimpressive bearers to move someone either “from death to death” or “from life to life”?

The exact same prepositional construction occurs in Romans 1:17 where Paul speaks of the gospel as revealing the righteousness of God “from [ek] faith to [eis] faith” (AT). A similar construction occurs in 2 Corinthians 3:18 to speak of believers’ transformation “from [apo] glory to [eis] glory” (cf. ESV mg.). We will come to this latter text in due course. The phrase in Romans does not enjoy widespread agreement in interpretation but likely means something like “faith all along the way from start to finish.” Here in 2 Corinthians 2:16 the prepositional construction may be a figure of speech expressing settled certainty. Given Paul’s thoroughgoing hermeneutical outlook of inaugurated eschatology, however (cf. Introduction: Relationship to the Rest of the Bible and to Christ), he more likely means “from earthly life to eternal life” and “from a state of earthly mortality to a state of eternal death.” The gospel brings one either from life to Life or from death to Death.

But how can the gospel be a means of settling one in a state of eternal death? Did Christ not come to save the world, not judge it (John 3:17)? Indeed. But Paul means something like Jesus does in his use of Isaiah 6 in Mark 4:11–12, 33–34. To hear the good news cannot leave one where he is. He will move either toward heaven or toward hell. There are no neutral hearers.

In light, then, of the grave, eternal realities at stake in the simple, unimpressive preaching of God’s undershepherds (who look more like prisoners being led in triumphal procession than anything else), how appropriate for Paul to pause to ask: “Who is sufficient for these things?” He has used this word for “sufficient” (Gk. hikanos) already in speaking of the offender’s punishment by the majority as “enough” (2 Cor. 2:6). More to the point, Paul will raise the question again of his sufficiency for this high task in 3:5–6, where he will answer it. Here he leaves the question open-ended. The question serves a rhetorical purpose: Who could possibly consider himself capable of this momentous task? God is settling men and women into one eternal destiny or the other through this seemingly innocuous act of gospel proclamation.

2:17 This verse continues to press home to the Corinthians the legitimacy of Paul’s apostolic ministry, but here for the first time his opponents are introduced (cf. 5:12; 10:12–12:13). Paul says not simply “we are not peddlers of God’s word” but “we are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word.” “Peddlers” (i.e. money-making merchants) of the gospel are out there. Indeed, Paul likely alludes to a specific and known group of men infiltrating the Corinthian church. Paul, unlike them, has never preached for selfish gain. He has in fact refused compensation (11:7–9). The issue is more than just money, however. The issue is, more fundamentally, the self. For whom does one preach? Oneself, or Christ? Paul has addressed this at length in earlier correspondence with the Corinthians (1 Cor. 1:18–2:5).

Why then does Paul preach? He tells us. It is out of “sincerity,” the same word (Gk. eilikrineia) he uses in 2 Corinthians 1:12 to testify of the integrity of his ministry (the only other NT instance is in 1 Cor. 5:8, speaking of the “unleavened bread of sincerity [eilikrineia] and truth”). The word denotes unmixed purity in one’s motives. How else could Paul act? After all, he speaks before God himself. The text literally reads: “As of God, before God, in Christ we speak.” The ESV’s gloss “commissioned by” effectively captures the sense of the Greek. The apostolic commission has its source in God (from him) and its primary audience in God (before him). How can Paul claim such lofty realities for his and his colleagues’ preaching? Because they are themselves, as already mentioned in 2 Corinthians 2:14, “in Christ.” They are united to God’s Son. They speak as those in him; in some sense they are Christ himself speaking. For they are his representatives, his “ambassadors” as Paul will put it later (5:20). Christ speaks through them. And these words are not just words; they are an aroma that settles one’s destiny in one direction or the other.