Original Meaning

AS WE SAW in the last chapter, the majority of Paul’s boasting in 11:1–12:13 is focused on his weakness. As such, it is not “foolish” but forms an essential aspect of his apology for being an apostle (11:23–33). Such boasting is also the appropriate means for glorifying God’s grace and power in Paul’s ministry (12:5–10). Thus, 11:23–33 and 12:5–10 are part of Paul’s positive self-commendation as developed earlier in 1:3–11; 2:14–17; 4:7–12; 6:3–10. Conversely, Paul’s foolishness is identified only with his temporarily joining his opponents in boasting in their Jewish pedigree (11:21b–23b) and in their visions and revelations (12:1–4). The issue is the object of one’s boast, not the act of boasting itself (cf. 10:12–18). Indeed, it is Paul’s boasting in his weakness, not his boasting per se, that unmasks his opponents’ foolishness. So if the polemic situation forces him to boast about himself, he will gladly do so concerning his weakness (11:30; cf. 12:9–10).

In 11:21–33, when forced to boast about his personal distinctives, Paul boasted in his weakness. What supported his claim to be an apostle was not his ethnic pedigree and service to Christ but his suffering for the sake of the gospel and on behalf of God’s people. In 12:1–10, Paul now applies the principle of 11:30 to the other major object of his opponents’ boasting, namely, their spiritual experiences. But before he boasts in his weakness with regard to his own spiritual experiences, he feels compelled once again to act like a fool, this time by boasting in his revelations themselves (cf. 11:16–21). Just as his opponents’ boasting in their ethnic pedigree had forced Paul into the foolish boasting of 11:22, so too their boasting in their spiritual pedigree makes it necessary for Paul to boast foolishly of his own “visions and revelations from the Lord” (12:1).

Paul’s Boast in His Weakness and the Boasting of a Fool (12:1–6)

PAUL THUS BEGINS 12:1 exactly as he began 11:30 (the NIV obscures the parallel between these two, both of which begin with the condition, “if it is necessary to boast”), only to complete it this time with a reference to his visions and revelations. However, since such boasting is foolish, he immediately qualifies it as useless; that is, “there is nothing to be gained” from it (cf. 11:23). This is the only reference to a “vision” or “visions” within Paul’s writings, and only here and in the parallel reference in 12:7 do we find the plural, “revelations.”

The striking absence of references to visions and revelations in Paul’s letters demonstrates his lack of interest in sharing such private, spiritual experiences. He viewed them as without benefit either for establishing his authority as an apostle or for building up the church (cf. 1 Cor. 13:1–2; 14:18–19).¹ Indeed, that Paul would refer in 12:1 to his “surpassingly great” visions and revelations (12:7) and then only recount one of them is itself a reflection of his conviction that such experiences are tangential to a genuine boast in the Lord (cf. 10:17–18).

This same hesitancy to boast in his visions is also reflected in Paul’s use of the third person to describe his own being caught up into heaven (12:1–5: “I know a man in Christ … this man…. He heard inexpressible things…. I will boast about a man like that”).² He is trying to report his experience while at the same time not reporting it. He wants the Corinthians to evaluate him only on the basis of what they themselves can see and hear from him directly, not on the grounds of personal reports of private mystical experiences (12:6; cf. 1:12–14; 5:11–12; 10:13–15). For this same reason, Paul leaves the circumstances surrounding this experience and its content obscure, telling the Corinthians only that it took place “fourteen years ago.” This places it sometime between A.D. 42–44, assuming that 2 Corinthians was written about A.D. 55/56. During this time, Paul was most likely in or around Tarsus or Antioch, prior to his first missionary journey with Barnabas (Acts 9:29–30; 11:25–26; Gal. 1:21).

In line with Paul’s commitment not to talk about such things, no known experience or event can be associated with this vision. The closest visions—that is, the call to Jerusalem (Gal. 2:2) and the call to his missionary journeys (Acts 13:1–3)—took place around A.D. 47. Moreover, these words from the Lord were public declarations of his apostolic call and itinerary, not private experiences of God’s presence. Indeed, the very fact that he had been quiet about his rapture into heaven for fourteen years demonstrates that he considered such private experiences unimportant for his ministry. In the almost two years that he had spent with the Corinthians, he apparently never mentioned it. In contrast, Paul repeatedly referred to his conversion experience as an essential part of his preaching (cf. 1 Cor. 9:1; 15:1–11; 2 Cor. 2:14–16; 3:4–6; 4:5–6).³

The experience Paul describes in 12:2–4 was a personal rapture into the “third heaven,” which is equated with being “caught up to paradise” (for the verb used here [harpazo], see Acts 8:39; 1 Thess. 4:17; Rev. 12:5). The Judaism of Paul’s day could view the heavenly realm as consisting of various numbers of levels (e.g., three, five, seven, or ten).⁴ In this case, the parallel between the “third heaven” and “paradise” indicates that Paul’s reference is to the highest spiritual realm, where one encounters the very presence of God.⁵

Although Paul is unsure how this experience took place—that is, whether he was actually transported there “in the body” or went there in a vision “out of the body”—he is sure that it took place. This is underscored by his twofold testimony to God’s knowledge of the mechanics of the event, since the “divine passive” in verses 2 and 4 indicates that God was the agent who brought it about. Paul “was caught up [by God] to the third heaven,” which is to say that he “was caught up [by God] into paradise.” Hence, even here Paul is careful to give God the credit for his experience, thereby boasting in the Lord even as he shares what happened to himself.

In recent scholarship, Paul’s experience has been associated with the Jewish tradition of “merkabah mysticism” (merkabah is the Hebrew term for the chariot associated with Ezekiel’s vision in Ezek. 1:15–20). As a result, Paul’s experience has also been compared to the later rabbinic parable of the four individuals who entered into a paradise “garden” (pardes), but only one, Rabbi Aqiba, returned unscathed.⁶ But Paul does not use the language of the throne-chariot in this passage. Furthermore, rather than describing any trance-inducing techniques, as is common in merkabah mysticism, he simply refers to God’s supernatural action of transporting him to heaven.⁷ His preaching does not derive from these mystical experiences but from his encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus, from his reception of the traditions of the early church, and from the Scriptures.

This is confirmed by Paul’s report in 12:4 that while he was in God’s presence, he heard “inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell.” Note once again Paul’s use of the divine passive: “man is not permitted [by God] to tell.” Thus, these things were “inexpressible” not because they were unintelligible or because of any inferiority in Paul himself as a mediator, but because God forbade Paul to speak of them. By doing so, God ensured that the basis of apostolic authority did not become ecstatic, mystical experience. The Corinthians must content themselves with what they see and hear in Paul’s “earthly” ministry. This stands in stark contrast to his opponents, who evidently were sharing their revelations as a key to their gospel and as a basis of their authority.

Having “boasted” about his own visions and revelations in 12:1–4, albeit indirectly, Paul concludes in verse 5 that this is as close as he will get to declaring his spiritual pedigree, since there is nothing to be gained by such self-promotion based on private experiences (cf. 12:1). If Paul is to boast about himself, he will do so only concerning his weaknesses (v. 5; cf. 11:30). Thus, his reason for not boasting in his visions and revelations is not that he has none (contra the accusations of his opponents). If he were to boast in such things, he would not be a “fool” for doing so, since he would only be stating what is true (12:6a). Nevertheless, he refuses to boast in them because they are useless when it comes to edifying others or establishing his apostolic authority.

Accordingly, Paul restrains himself from such boasting so that no one will brag about him beyond what can be evaluated objectively (cf. 5:12–13; 10:7, 11–14, 17–18). As we saw in 11:16–33, it is not boasting per se that is foolish, but boasting in those things that are not true, do not edify others, or are irrelevant for establishing the point at hand; what counts is what others can observe concerning his words and deeds (12:6). What the Corinthians can see and boast about is Paul’s weakness on their behalf, through which they received the Spirit (12:5; cf. 2:14–3:3; 10:11–18). What they can hear and boast in is his proclamation of the gospel (12:6; cf. 1:19; 2:17; 4:5; 5:11; 11:3–4; cf. 1 Cor. 1:17; 2:1–5; 4:9–13).

Paul’s Strength in His Weakness (12:7–10)

IN 12:7–10, PAUL turns his attention to his appropriate object of boasting. In doing so, the contrasts between the report about the third person in verses 1–6 and the first person account in verses 7–10 are stark. From an opaque description of the highest possible heavenly revelations, Paul moves to a specific declaration of what Christ said about Paul’s earthly afflictions. Whereas he was forbidden to speak about what he saw in heaven, he can quote Christ verbatim concerning Paul’s life on earth. As a result, Paul’s silence over his revelations is broken only by his boast in his weakness, a boast that once again answers the accusations of his opponents (cf. 10:10). The strength of Paul’s visions remains “weak” when it comes to revealing God, while Paul’s weakness becomes the place of God’s power.

In 12:7a, Paul states explicitly his concern that if he did share his private experiences, others would go beyond boasting in his apostolic work to glorifying him as an apostle; that is why he has restrained himself. Because of the great magnitude of his revelations,⁸ Paul knew that to boast in his visions, as his opponents were doing, would lead to exalting himself in a way that would cut out the very heart of the gospel. So, rather than causing him to trumpet his visions aloud, the fact that his revelations were “surpassingly great” kept him from boasting in them, both for his own sake (cf. 12:5) and that of others (cf. Col. 2:18).

Paul’s restraint, however, was not the result of his own moral willpower. In 12:7b, he makes it clear that God kept him from such conceit by granting him “a thorn in [or against] his flesh,” that is, “a messenger of Satan” sent to batter or torment him. Once again, Paul uses the divine passive in this verse: “There was given me [by God] a thorn in my flesh.” Both Paul’s rapture and his thorn are the work of God. As Ralph Martin observes, “The importance of the passive verb, edothē, ‘was given,’ can hardly be exaggerated. God is the unseen agent behind the bitter experience.”⁹ Paul’s use of the divine passive in regard to his receiving this “messenger” as well as for his rapture into heaven may be intended to correct the accusation of his opponents that his “thorn” was the work of Satan alone, not of God. From their perspective, Paul’s inability to overcome it thereby called his legitimacy into question.

The exact nature of this “thorn” or satanic messenger has been a matter of much debate. Nonetheless, Ulrich Heckel has convincingly demonstrated that Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” in 12:7 and the parallel reference to his “weakness” (astheneia) in 12:9 are best taken to refer to some personal sickness.¹⁰ The other options are to understand them as referring to his inner temptations (a view that no longer finds much support) or to his being persecuted by his opponents (a view first found among the Fathers, beginning in the fourth century A.D.). Those who favor this last view emphasize that it was not a thorn in the flesh, but a thorn against the flesh.¹¹ They also advocate a parallel between the “messenger of Satan” in 12:7 and the “servants” of Satan in 11:15 and point to the use of the image of a “thorn” in the LXX of Num. 33:55 and Ezek. 28:24 to refer to the enemies of Israel.¹²

Yet the “thorn” image in the Old Testament does not always refer to one’s enemies (cf. Hos. 2:6; Sir. 43:19). Moreover, the parallel between 2 Corinthians 11:15 and 12:7 is not exact. Satan’s servants in 11:15 and the thorn/messenger (Gk. angelos, angel) in 12:7 have different functions, so that Paul’s response to them is also different. In 11:14–15, Satan appears as an angel of light whose servants, Paul’s opponents, must be opposed (cf. 10:4–6; 11:4). In chapter 11, Paul therefore fights against his opponents as part of the eschatological battle between Satan and Christ, while in 12:7–10 Paul accepts Satan’s messenger as the demonic angel who does God’s bidding. This is confirmed by the contrast between 12:7–10 and 1 Thessalonians 2:18, where persecution leads to a hindering of Paul’s work, not to an education in dependence and humility. Furthermore, in 2 Corinthians 10–11, Paul faces many opponents (see 10:12–16; 11:5, 12–15, 18, 22–23; the use of the singular to refer to the opponents in 10:7, 11, 18; 11:4, 20 is collective), whereas in 12:7–10 he faces a single messenger.

Finally, the context of 2 Corinthians itself speaks against taking Paul’s “thorn” as a reference to his opponents. In 11:13–15, he is not speaking about opponents in general, but about a specific group of false apostles who arrived in Corinth after writing 1 Corinthians (i.e., in the mid-50s A.D.). In 12:7–10, however, Paul’s thorn apparently goes back to about A.D. 42.¹³ This same emphasis on the fourteen-year-long continuation of the thorn as one of Paul’s weaknesses speaks against those who have argued that the messenger was a demon who attacked Paul during his mystical experience because Paul was not worthy to see the throne of God.¹⁴ While there is no doubt that the two units of 12:1–4 and 7–10 are related thematically, the “thorn” should not be limited to Paul’s visionary experience. The “thorn” persisted for fourteen years; it was not a onetime experience that accompanied his rapture to the third heaven.¹⁵

Whatever its exact referent, Heckel has rightly argued that Paul’s silence in 12:7 concerning the nature of his “thorn” is intentional. He is not interested in the medical diagnosis of his weakness but in its theological origin (sent by Satan but given by God), in its cause (Paul’s great revelations), and in its purpose (to afflict Paul in order to keep him from becoming conceited).¹⁶ Hence, rather than calling his divinely granted authority into question, Paul’s ongoing weakness is itself proof of the revelations granted to him as an apostle, since they are the ground for his receiving a thorn in the flesh. In 12:7, Paul therefore turns his opponents’ argument on its head. The more they call attention to the severity of Paul’s weaknesses as a “sick charismatic,” the more they themselves point to the exalted nature of his revelations!

At first, Paul reacted to his “thorn in the flesh” as would be expected from one who knew of God’s sovereignty over evil and of God’s love for his children: He prayed that the Lord would remove the “thorn” (12:8). Paul is no Stoic, who sees the thorn as an opportunity for self-mastery and endurance. Nor is he a theological masochist, who glorifies suffering itself. When suffering hits, Paul prays for deliverance. What is striking is that Paul directs his prayer for deliverance in 12:8 to Christ himself, since such a practice is not common for him.¹⁷

Paul utters his prayer to Christ despite his own affirmation in 12:7 that the source of his sickness is God’s will. Still, the context and content of his prayer make Christ the natural recipient of his request (cf. the stress in 11:31 on the sovereignty of Christ). The One whom the Father raised from the dead, establishing him to be the Lord, is the One to whom Paul prays for his own deliverance from suffering.

That Paul prayed “three times” may simply be a conventional way to emphasize that the prayer was repeated (cf. Ps. 55:17, where the psalmist utters his complaint three times a day¹⁸). In this case, Paul is simply saying that he prayed repeatedly about the matter. The problem with this reading is that Paul stopped praying after the third time. The reference to “three times” is therefore better taken as signaling an event that is now over and done with, having gone through its beginning, middle, and end.¹⁹ Read in this way, Paul’s threefold prayer parallels Jesus’ threefold prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, which also culminated in confidence that the prayer had been answered, even though the cup of suffering remained (Mark 14:32–41).

God’s answer to Paul’s prayer in 12:9a and Paul’s response in 12:9b–10 form the conclusion both to Paul’s experience of his thorn in the flesh (vv. 7b–8) and to his refraining from boasting in his own “surpassingly great revelations” (vv. 5–7a). Instead of removing the thorn, Christ declared that his own grace would be sufficient for Paul in the midst of his suffering, for his weakness would provide the platform for perfecting the Lord’s power (v. 9a).

Paul’s sufferings can never outstrip God’s supply of grace (cf. 1:8–11). For this reason, he will “all the more gladly” boast in his weaknesses instead of his revelations, in order that the power of Christ may dwell on him (v. 9b; cf. 1:9–10; 11:30; 12:5). The promise of God’s grace and power leads Paul to be pleased in his sufferings (v. 10a) rather than continuing to pray for their removal, because he now knows that “when” he is weak, “then” he is strong (v. 10b). Thus, the revelation of Christ’s power in Paul’s weakness (v. 9b) and Paul’s consequent contentment (v. 10a) form the high point of his argument in this passage and, in doing so, provide a summary of the theological substructure of 2 Corinthians as a whole. To comment on these verses in our words is to risk detracting from their own profundity.

The contrast between Paul’s thorn and God’s word of grace is yet another expression of the principle established in Jeremiah 9:23–24 and applied to Paul’s ministry in 10:17–18. In 10:17–18 “boasting in the Lord” referred to Paul’s apostolic ministry of the Spirit (cf. 3:1–3), whereas in 12:9–10 it refers to Paul’s suffering (cf. 2:14–17). Just as his founding of the church in Corinth is a boast in the power of God’s Spirit, so too his ministry in the midst of weakness is a boast in the power of God’s grace (note the parallel between grace and power in 12:9; cf. 4:7–12; 6:3–10). Paul’s weakness makes it clear that his apostolic ministry, in all its glory, can only be attributed to the Lord (1:12; 3:4–6; 5:14, 18; 10:8).

Paul is a jar of clay (cf. 4:7). His weakness is the occasion for God’s sufficient grace and power. His reference in 12:9 to “Christ’s power … resting on me” recalls the earlier affirmation in 3:7–18 that under the new covenant the glory of God is being revealed in Christ “unveiled.” Here too Paul is reflecting the contrast between his own ministry of the Spirit and the veiled glory on Moses’ face and in the tent of meeting, tabernacle, and temple (cf. Ex. 25:8; 40:34; Ezek. 37:27; John 1:14; 2 Cor. 6:16; Rev. 21:3). Christ’s declaration and Paul’s response in 12:9 are yet another affirmation that the apostle is a mediator of God’s transforming presence under the new covenant ministry of the Spirit.

Instead of calling that ministry into question, Paul’s various weaknesses (listed in 11:23b–33 and now summarized in 12:10) are therefore his only legitimating boast as an apostle, since they are the means by which God makes known his glory in Christ among the Corinthians (cf. 1:3–11; 2:14–16a; 3:7–4:6; 4:13–18).²⁰ For this reason, Paul boasts in the very things that cause others to slander him. His strength in 12:10b is not his personal strength, but the strength that derives from his divinely granted ability to endure adversity for the sake of the gospel (cf. 4:7–18). This then is Paul’s strongest argument for the legitimacy of his apostleship: His weaknesses are the basis of Christ’s power. For to boast in his weakness (11:30; 12:5, 9–10) is, at the same time, to boast in what the Lord is doing by his grace and power (Jer. 9:22–23).

The Superfluous Nature of Paul’s Boast (12:11–13)

IN 12:11, PAUL closes his apology by returning to the point with which he began in 11:1. He has become a fool by boasting in his personal distinctives and private revelations. A desperate situation has called for desperate measures. This is the tragedy of the situation. The need to match his opponents in their boast should not have been necessary in the first place, since the Corinthians themselves should have commended Paul as his “letter of recommendation” (cf. 3:2; 5:12; 7:12; 10:7, 14; also 1 Cor. 9:2). They should have recognized him as of equal standing with the eminent apostles of the church (cf. 2 Cor. 11:5). Here too his positive comparison of himself to these “super-apostles” in support of his legitimacy indicates that the apostles in view in 12:11 are not his opponents, but the leading “pillar” apostles from Jerusalem. To be equal to the false, satanic “apostles” of 11:13–15 would hardly qualify one for commendation by the church.

That Paul has the pillar apostles in view is confirmed by his following disclaimer at the end of 12:11 that such equality is asserted “even though he is nothing.” Many commentators think that in saying this, Paul is ironically parroting a taunt from his opponents, who have accused him of being of no account. However, if in 12:11 Paul is comparing himself to those who were apostles before him, then his disclaimer is intended to remind the Corinthians of what he had taught them previously in 1 Corinthians 15:8–9. Paul is “nothing” because he was the “last of the apostles,” having previously persecuted the church. Nevertheless, because of God’s grace in his life, he worked harder than the rest (1 Cor. 15:10; cf. 2 Cor. 11:23–29), with the Corinthians themselves being the concrete evidence of God’s commendation of his ministry (cf. 2 Cor. 3:1–2; 4:2; 6:4; 10:18). Paul is nothing, because everything he is and accomplishes are the result of God’s power in his weakness (3:4–6; cf. 1 Cor. 3:5–9). Yet, because of this same power, Paul is also no less than the most eminent apostles.

In 12:12, Paul supports his assertion of equality by affirming that in addition to his weaknesses, the “things that mark an apostle” (lit., “the signs of the apostle”) had also accompanied his ministry. The force of his argument derives from his assumption that this too, as part and parcel of his founding the church in Corinth, was common knowledge among the Corinthians (cf. 3:2–3; 10:12–18; cf. 1 Cor. 4:15).

Moreover, Paul uses the divine passive in 12:12 yet again (the signs of the apostle “were done [by God]”) to signal that God was the one who performed these signs through Paul, thereby accrediting his apostolic ministry of the new covenant. The “signs” themselves are the outpouring of the Spirit and its attendant circumstances, especially the conversion and gifting of the believers, as that which characterizes the genuine ministry of the new covenant (cf. 2:17–3:3; 1 Cor. 1:18–2:15; 15:1–11). This interpretation is confirmed by their having been performed “with great perseverance,” a reference to Paul’s endurance in the ministry in the midst of his weakness and adversity (cf. 6:4).

In addition to the signs of an apostle, Paul goes on to speak of other “signs, wonders, and miracles” that accompanied these signs. This distinction between these two sets of signs indicates too that the former signs are not miracles in the narrower sense of that word (semeion).²¹ In other words, “the things that mark [lit., signs of] an apostle” were done (lit.) “with signs, wonders and miracles,” which is a threefold description of various miraculous acts, not a reference to three neatly differentiated types of miracles. Paul’s point is that the pouring out of the Spirit as the primary sign of apostleship was done among the Corinthians, the authenticity of which was further attested by other miraculous works (cf. Rom. 15:18–19; note Paul’s miracles and exorcisms in Acts 13:11; 14:10; 15:12; 16:18; 19:11–12; 28:3–6, 8).

The divine certification of the pouring out of the Spirit with signs, wonders, and miracles was an important part of the apostolic ministry (cf. Acts 2:22, 43; 4:30; 5:12; 14:3; Gal. 3:1–5; Heb. 2:4). Nevertheless, the key sign of apostleship remained the establishment of the church, since false apostles may do counterfeit signs and wonders, but they cannot fake the Spirit’s work in conversion (cf. 2 Thess. 2:9 with 1:3–4; also Deut. 13:1–4) In addition, Paul reminds the Corinthians of the triad of “signs, wonders and miracles” in order to “tie the apostle to God’s great redemptive event under the new covenant, focused on Christ’s death and resurrection. ‘Signs and wonders’ mark the Exodus; ‘signs, wonders and miracles’ mark the death and resurrection of Jesus as at the first Easter and its apostolic proclamation.”²²

Hence, Paul did not treat the Corinthians in any way as inferior to any other church, since he brought to them the same gospel that the apostles did (11:15; 12:11; cf. 1 Cor. 15:9–11). Likewise, this gospel was empowered by the same Spirit and validated by the same confirming miracles of the “second exodus” redemption in Christ (2 Cor. 12:13a). What is more, like Christ, the validity and power of the gospel manifested in these signs were embodied in Paul’s willingness to suffer on behalf of the Corinthians, the most poignant example of which was his self-support for the sake of his witness (cf. 11:7–9; 1 Cor. 9:7–18). Thus, in a declaration steeped in irony, Paul acknowledges that the only way in which he treated the Corinthians as “inferior” to other churches was that he did not “burden” them financially, a “wrong” for which he now asks to be “forgiven” (12:13b; cf. 2:17). In reality, however, the only one who has been wronged is Paul himself (cf. 2:5–11; 7:12).

Bridging Contexts

WHAT IS THE contemporary significance of Paul’s visions, revelations, and rapture into heaven (12:1–4)? What lesson is being taught by Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” (12:7–10)? How we understand the function of Paul’s experiences within his own cultural and theological context will determine to a large degree how we answer these crucial questions today.

The significance of Paul’s experiences in the Spirit. When making the move from Paul’s day to our own, it is increasingly common to answer this first question by picturing Paul as a model mystic. There is no doubt, of course, that he had profound visionary experiences. This should not be denied or played down. The important issue, however, is the role they played in Paul’s ministry. What must be emphasized is that Paul never derived his authority or the content of his message from such supernatural experiences. Even when the polemic situation in Corinth forced him to speak about them, which he considered the act of a fool, he still refused to mention their content.

Paul’s gospel does not come from his experience in heaven, but from the history of redemption recorded in the Scriptures, from early Christian tradition concerning the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, and from his own encounter with the resurrected Christ on the Damascus road. Paul provides no support for a personalized, subjective approach to the truth of the gospel, not to mention the common move in our culture to consider private, immediate experience of more value than God’s objective self-revelation in time and space. As important as such experiences were for Paul personally, his private visions never became the subject of his teaching, nor are they held up as a model for others. In this sense, Paul was no mystic.

This conclusion is controversial today not only in the pews but also in the pages of scholarship. For example, Morray-Jones is convinced that the Jewish mystical traditions derived from Ezekiel’s vision of the chariot (merkabah mysticism) are a source of Paul’s perspectives in 12:1–12. As a result, he argues that the “signs and wonders” of an apostle (12:12) are “clearly connected in [Paul’s] mind with the ‘visions and revelations’ by which this authority was conferred upon him.”²³ In this view, Paul is echoing the mystical tradition in which “supernatural power and authority are conferred upon the one who attains to the vision of the merkabah, and this person functions as God’s emissary and (eschatological?) judge of both Israel and the angels…. The visionary ascent to heaven of which Paul is driven to boast seems, then, to be of crucial importance to his claim to apostolic authority and power.”²⁴ “ ‘Merkabah mysticism’ was, therefore, a central feature of Paul’s experience and self-understanding.”²⁵

Yet, Paul’s refusal to boast in his visions, in contrast to his ready and repeated references to his Damascus road experience, demonstrates the opposite of Morray-Jones’ thesis. There is no evidence that Paul derived any aspect of his teaching from a mystical experience. Though his visions may have been a central feature of his personal experience, he kept them to himself, at best viewing them as confirmatory but not determinative of his public ministry. It was not Paul’s private, visionary experiences that established his apostolic authority and formed his self-understanding (he mentions them only because is he forced to do so by false apostles). Rather, the “Lord’s commendation” (10:18) is seen in Paul’s public call, his suffering in public, his public work of the Spirit among his churches, and his public performance of the signs of an apostle, which the Corinthians could see and hear (12:6).

Morray-Jones calls the view “that Paul’s visions were important for him personally, but irrelevant to his apostolic claim or Christian belief,” as absurd, part of a “hidden agenda … to produce a portrait of Paul that conforms to rationalist Protestant presuppositions” and “a distortion of the context in which 2 Corinthians 12 occurs.”²⁶ Notwithstanding this objection, the context of chapter 12 is clear: In naming his rapture into heaven, Paul is forced to speak of what otherwise would have remained unsaid. The evidence of his letters concerning the source of his apostolic instruction is equally clear: It derives from sources outside of himself. That he ever taught things he learned in mystical experiences remains a matter of speculation. Like his experience of speaking in tongues (cf. 1 Cor. 14:18–19), such visionary experiences occupied a secondary place in his ministry.

The reason for Paul’s silence is that when God makes himself known for the salvation of his people and the judgment of the world, he does not do so mystically in the private experiences of the individual. Rather, God’s self-revelation takes place historically in the redemptive events that take place in space and time as they are interpreted and reflected on in the Scriptures. The Word of God is the record and interpretation of the acts of God. The climax of God’s self-revelation is therefore the gospel of God’s self-revelation in the Word of God become flesh. As its corollary, Paul does not boast in his private experiences but in the Christ who died for his sins and sustains him in the midst of his suffering. Paul’s foolish boast in his spiritual experiences consequently reflects and provides support for Emil Brunner’s study of the “Central Doctrine of the Christian Faith,” in which he characterized Christianity as

the “absolute opposite” of any religion that views God as disclosing himself immediately to mankind: “In the one form of religion it is claimed as fundamental that God reveals Himself directly to the human soul, in the other as fundamental that God reveals Himself through the Mediator. This is the fundamental distinction.”Requiring personal faith in Jesus Christ, Brunner continues, Christianity affirms that “a real event in time and space … is the unique final revelation, for time and for eternity, and for the whole world…. Faith in the Mediator—in the event which took place once for all, a revealed atonement—is the Christian religion itself…. In distinction from all other forms of religion the Christian religion is faith in the one Mediator….” The fact of the Mediator, Brunner adds, is “the characteristic and final token of the contrast between general religion and the Christian faith.”²⁷

We must be careful here. To deny that Paul was a mystic when it came to knowing and communicating the truth of the gospel does not entail denying that the very core of Christianity is its supernaturalism. We are not arguing for a Protestant rationalism. In fact, it has been Protestant rationalism that has most often stressed the priority of private, religious experience as the only locus of truth. If one denies the supernatural acts of God’s self-revelation in history and the veracity of his inspired Word, all one has left is general religious experience. To deny history is to be left only with the heart. But as Carl F. H. Henry has emphasized throughout his magisterial work on the centrality of divine revelation to biblical faith, mysticism is to be rejected as the model of experiencing God’s truth precisely because God reveals himself miraculously in time and space. In Henry’s words:

Instead of veiling God’s person with transcendent mystery or mere probabilities, the Old Testament and New Testament alike offer and define divine revelation and authority as their hallmark….To bring about [a] significant face-off between Christianity and secularism Christianity must reaffirm its claim of the self-revealed supernatural. Like the ancient Greeks and Romans before them moderns recoil before such biblical claims; Scripture exposes them for the rebellious sinners they are and calls them to moral and spiritual commitments that they resent and resist….In view of the self-revelation of the living God, Judeo-Christian religion challenges contemporary theology to break its silence concerning the supernatural…. The fact should sober us that, as eternity will disclose, modern scientism for all its probing of the universe actually compressed the parameters of reality by deflecting interest from Supernature.Harry Blamires remarks that [a] “supernatural orientation” is “a prime mark of the Christian mind.” “Modern secular thought … treats this world as the Thing…. Whenever secularism enters the Christian mind, either the Christian mind will momentarily shake that (this worldly) rootedness, or secularism will seduce the Christian mind to a temporary mode of converse which overlooks the supernatural…. The Christian mind, thinking christianly, cannot for a moment escape a frame of reference which reaches out to the supernatural.”For Judeo-Christian religion the Supernatural is the one and only personal Supernatural, the living God.²⁸

The significance of Paul’s suffering. We must therefore be careful not to turn Paul’s spiritual experiences into a model of mysticism as the foundation of our faith. Paul considered himself a “fool” to boast in such things. In the same way, we must be careful to distinguish his argument concerning his legitimate boast from the Stoicism of his day and from its descendant in our own, “the power of positive thinking.”²⁹ Paul was no fool to boast in his weaknesses, and God kept him from pride precisely through granting him an unrelenting “thorn in the flesh.” Stoics, however, whether ancient or modern, repudiate the reality of external circumstances by affirming a human or semidivine power within them that can “overcome” such “thorns.” For the Stoic, this power was usually an impersonal force, like the divine or human “will” or one’s own spiritual essence. For the power of positive thinking, this power is the ability to overcome one’s circumstances through fighting the negative thoughts they produce.

In stark contrast, when Paul boasts in his weakness, he is not engaging either in the self-mastery of the ancient Stoic or in the reinterpretation of events that is common to the modern “power-of-positive-thinking” movement. For Paul, weakness is not the result of failing to control our passions or being unable to fight negative thoughts or influences. Weakness for Paul is a real suffering and powerlessness because of our existence under the real power and circumstances of sin. The Self cannot subdue sin on its own. Weaknesses cannot be escaped simply by thinking differently. What is needed is not more willpower, but the power of God’s grace. When confronted with his thorn in the flesh, Paul does not try to think positively; he prays. His contentment does not come from a renewed ability to exercise his will but from receiving God’s grace. He is not seeking a higher virtue of contentment but a supernatural act of deliverance.

Indeed, when confronted with his suffering, Paul can complain to God and call out for help, while Stoics and the power of positive thinking cannot.³⁰ Paul’s threefold prayer for deliverance is an expression of his godliness; for the Stoic it would be a failure of nerve and willpower. The answer to Paul’s prayer is in God himself, while the answer for the power of positive thinking is in the Self. Whereas Stoics try to save themselves by relying on their natural endowments, what Paul needs is God’s grace. The power of positive thinking says, “I am stronger than fate”; Paul says, “God’s power is stronger than the circumstances he himself has orchestrated.” The Stoic’s goal is self-mastery, and this is what makes him content in the midst of his circumstances; Paul’s goal is the glory of God, and this is what causes him to rejoice in the midst of his suffering (12:10).

That Paul’s faith is not to be confused with self-mastery or the power of positive thinking means that suffering is a means to an end rather than the necessary condition to that end. Paul does not glorify suffering as the necessary condition for spirituality, though all people will suffer to varying degrees. Instead, he recognizes its presence as a (not the) platform for the revelation of God’s grace. This is why he can pray for its removal.

This is also why Paul’s point in 12:10 is that whenever he is weak, then he is strong; not if he is weak, then he is strong. Weakness is a ground of Christ’s power, not its one and only condition. The experience of Christ’s power is not a reward or payment for suffering, nor must we seek suffering in order to experience his grace. By boasting in hardships and persecutions, Paul is not laying the foundation for a theology of martyrdom as the goal of spirituality; he is boasting in Christ’s sufficiency for every situation.

For this reason, it is important to note that the sufferings Paul lists here are all passive. He does not seek to suffer. Even his voluntary practice of self-support was softened, when possible, by the contributions of other churches (cf. 11:8–9). His point is not that the weaker he is, the stronger he is, which would wrongly lead to seeking suffering for the sake of a supposedly deeper spirituality. Rather, Paul’s point is that Christ’s power is present in his suffering, whenever and wherever and however such suffering should, in God’s providence, come his way.

Paul acknowledges the presence of suffering, and its essential role as part of his apostolic calling is presupposed, but there is no universal call to suffer in Paul’s theology. Even for the apostle himself, it is not his weakness as such that provides the seal of his apostleship but the power of Christ at work in his weakness, a power manifested in the establishment of the Corinthian church. It is only the power of Christ that makes Paul content with his suffering.

In 12:5, 7–10, Paul is not teaching an imitation of Christ in his suffering. Suffering does not make one a Christian or an apostle, Christ does. It is crucial not to confuse the role of suffering in Paul’s life as an apostle with the universal call for humility before the sovereign God. His thorn in the flesh was God’s particular prescription to keep him from being conceited (12:7); it may not be ours. It is the universal need for humility as it expresses itself in dependence on God’s sovereignty and love, not weakness and suffering per se, that Paul has in view in this passage.³¹ Not all who suffer are humble and not all who are humble suffer.

Contemporary Significance

AS WE HAVE seen, when Paul concludes in 12:11–12 that he has become foolish, he is referring to the two specific times he felt compelled to engage in boasting about his “strength”: in regard to his spiritual heritage (11:22–23a) and concerning his spiritual experiences (12:1–4). As A. T. Lincoln has put it, “What is … specifically at issue in II Corinthians 12 is what is to count as evidence for the legitimacy of claims to apostleship…. Paul will rely on the evidence that is plainly before the Corinthians’ eyes (cf. also 10:7; 11:6).”³² What the Corinthians can see is Paul’s perseverance in suffering for the sake of the gospel as a testimony to the grace of Christ itself.

Nonetheless, like the Corinthians, we are often tempted to exchange Paul’s gospel for one of Stoic self-reliance and willpower or pseudo-charismatic experientialism. We find ourselves prone to glorify suffering as the pathway to spirituality rather than accepting it as part of the God-ordained fabric of living in a fallen world. Nevertheless, Paul’s experience embodied the truth that both the thorn in the flesh and the power of God’s presence to endure it come from the gracious hand of God’s sovereignty for the good of his people. Paul’s experience, portrayed so profoundly in 12:9–10, is not a call to suffering per se but an expression of God’s promise to all Christians whenever they too, like Paul, are led into situations of weakness and hardship (cf. 2:14). The good news of the gospel is that those who find themselves weak but boast in God can expect the same message from Christ that Paul received: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (12:9a).

The question of whether or not experiences of rapture like that of Paul’s still happen today is therefore irrelevant. If they do, those who experience them are to keep it to themselves. Such experiences have value only for those who have them. Our only source of divine revelation remains the all-sufficient Word of God and Word of God become flesh. Our only boast, like that of Paul’s, is in our weakness as the platform for the display of Christ’s power and grace.

Not experience, but emptiness! This passage poses at least three challenges to the contemporary church. First, Paul’s boasting in his weakness because of the all-sufficient grace of Christ challenges our current propensity to create Christian celebrities based on their “spiritual experiences” and “power” and to mimic their mysticism. From his experience week in and week out among God’s people, Pastor Arturo Azurdia has pointed out the dangers of such foolishness for the life of the local church.

Two serious concerns should be aroused within us related to these “Holy Spirit experiences.” Firstly, from a pastoral perspective, we need to be concerned that the spiritual development of well-meaning Christians can become vulnerable to the law of diminishing returns. That is to say, the maturing of a Christian will be consistently impaired if devotion to Jesus Christ is determined by fresh experiences of spiritual ecstasy. Why is this the case? Because one’s sensation of being overpowered by God will need to steadily intensify. The ordinary will give way to the unusual. The unusual will surrender to the extreme. The extreme will topple to the ridiculous. Often, the inevitable consequence is spiritual emptiness.³³

Azurdia goes on to quote Gardiner’s helpful insight that

the seeker for experience goes back through the ritual again and again, but begins to discover something; ecstatic experience, like drug-addiction, requires larger and larger doses to satisfy…. Eventually there is a crisis and a decision is made; he will sit on the back seats and be a spectator, “fake it,” or go on in the hope that everything will eventually be as it was. The most tragic decision is to quit and in the quitting abandon all things spiritual as fraudulent. The spectators are frustrated, the fakers suffer guilt, the hoping are pitiable and the quitters are a tragedy.³⁴

Even more important, there is a doctrinal concern raised by Paul’s example. Those who seek such spiritual experiences as the focus of their seeking God do so because they operate with an expectation concerning the ministry of the Holy Spirit that is “Christian-centered rather than Christ-centered.”³⁵ Paul’s example, however, reveals that the role of the Holy Spirit is to glorify the all-sufficiency of the grace of Christ in the midst of the very adversity and suffering, weakness and persecution that would seem to call it into question. As Azurdia summarizes it, “the vitality of the Spirit is His effectual work of glorifying Jesus Christ through fallible men who faithfully proclaim the Christocentric scriptures.”³⁶ Thus, to be effectively glorifying God, “the preacher must recognize, and even revel in, his own human inabilities.”³⁷ And what is true for our apostles and pastors is true for us as well.

The life of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, whose power in the ministry was embedded in a life of emotional and physical suffering, is a profound example of Paul’s principle that Christ’s power is perfected in the weakness of his servants. Spurgeon suffered recurring bouts of depression throughout his adult life. Because of his own popularity and the unpopular stands he took against the theological liberalism of his day, Spurgeon also had to endure constant ridicule from others, including other pastors. Added to this was his need to provide relentless care for his wife, who was an invalid for most of their marriage. As if this were not enough, Spurgeon spent a third of his last twenty-seven years of ministry out of the pulpit because of his own physical illness. There was hardly a weakness, insult, hardship, or difficulty (12:10) that Spurgeon did not know personally.

Nevertheless, this was Spurgeon’s response to his suffering and weaknesses as a minister:

Instruments shall be used, but their intrinsic weakness shall be clearly manifested; there shall be no division of the glory, no diminishing of the honor due the Great Worker. The man shall be emptied of self, and then filled with the Holy Ghost…. My witness is, that those who are honored of their Lord in public, have usually to endure a secret chastening, or to carry a peculiar cross, lest by any means they exalt themselves, and fall into the snare of the devil…. Such humbling but salutary messages our depressions whisper in our ears; they tell us in a manner not to be mistaken that we are but men, frail, feeble, apt to faint.³⁸

Listen to this same testimony concerning the life of the believer in general from the German monk Thomas à Kempis (1379/80–1471):

It is good that we sometimes have griefs and adversities, for they drive a man to behold himself and to see that he is here but as in exile, and to learn thereby that he ought not put his trust in any worldly thing…. Therefore, a man ought to establish himself so fully in God that, whatever adversity befall him, he will not need to seek any outward comfort.³⁹

Not exalting self, but exposing God! Second, Paul’s boasting in his weakness challenges our preoccupation with our Self, whether positively or negatively. In regard to the latter, Paul’s call to carry the treasure of God’s glory in a “jar of clay” (cf. 4:7) did not lead him to a life of self-pity. Concerning the former, his boasting in his weakness did not lead to an attitude of exalting sacrifice, in which he paraded before others how much he had “given up for God.” Instead, his experience moved others to join him in trusting and praising the “God of all comfort” (1:3, 6, 11). Everywhere that God led Paul to death, his suffering revealed “the knowledge of God” (2:14). Hence, knowing that God was using Paul’s suffering to reveal his grace, he “gladly” boasted in his weaknesses and “delighted” in his hardships. In turn, such joy in the midst of adversity magnified the very sufficiency of Christ that he proclaimed (12:9–10).

We must therefore not subvert Paul’s passion for the power of Christ into a modern Stoicism of self-control, willpower, and positive thinking. In boasting in his weakness, Paul is not boasting in his own patience and ability to endure tribulation. By boasting “gladly” in his hardships, Paul is confessing in word and deed his contented dependence on the grace of Christ. Suffering is not praised for itself, but because it carries with it this promise of Christ’s power. It cannot be overemphasized that God refused to remove Paul’s thorn in order to teach Paul this fundamental truth: “God is most glorified in us, when we are most satisfied in him.”⁴⁰

To that end, God would not allow Paul to become self-assertive, self-dependent, self-satisfied, or self-glorifying because of the great revelations he had received. Suffering strips away second-rate sources of happiness, even divinely granted spiritual experiences and revelations, driving us to depend on God alone to satisfy the deepest longings of our heart. For this reason, Paul’s example reminds us that our public ministry, pulpit presence, programs, and personal lives should all communicate our utter dependence on and satisfaction in God, rather than calling attention to our own strength, experiences, and, if we are in the ministry, “professionalism.” This will be difficult, given the cultural pressure around us to do otherwise. Paul too was conscious that he did not meet the cultural expectations of the Corinthians, but he refused to do so for the sake of the gospel.

Paul’s example in 12:1–10 certainly carries the general application we have drawn from it above. But 12:11–13 makes it clear that Paul’s primary focus here is on his own ministry as an apostle (for the issue of money in the ministry and Paul’s practice of self-support, cf. our earlier discussions of 2:17; 11:7–12). The primary application of this passage will thus be to our leaders and ministers of the gospel.

At this point, we thus turn our attention directly to the issue of style in the pulpit. Though not mentioned explicitly in 12:1–13, it is clear from the larger context that the false teachers’ boasting in their spiritual experiences was an essential aspect and extension of their self-exalting use of rhetoric (cf. 10:10; 11:4–6). Their self-commendation was a complex mixture of word and deed, with their boasting in their “strength” no doubt being matched by their “strong” persona as professional “public speakers.” Today, as in Paul’s day, “boasting in our weaknesses” (12:5, 10) will consequently mean turning our back on all attempts to cultivate a manufactured “rhetorical presence” in the pulpit, since doing so will cloud the presence of Christ’s power and grace in our weakness. So, having already looked to Spurgeon for the role of suffering in the life of the minister, it is only fitting that we turn to him as well for counsel on the public task of preaching.

Given Paul’s battle with his opponents over the public image of the pastor, it is striking that Spurgeon’s two published lectures on preaching focus on “posture” and rhetorical techniques in the pulpit, not on theology per se (though he certainly taught plenty of that!). Like Paul, Spurgeon takes up this topic because he knew how significant the image of the preacher can be for the promulgation of the gospel. As Spurgeon observed, posture and actions are comparatively small aspects of the preaching process, but “in the service of God even the smallest things should be regarded with holy care.”⁴¹

Spurgeon himself was known for his drama, wit, and movement in the pulpit. He was certainly not against using a style that forcefully communicated the power and passion of the Scriptures. His concern, like Paul’s, was that the persona of the preacher be genuine and that it fit the content of the message rather than being theatrical or rhetorical for their own sake or for the sake of making an “impression.” As a result, Spurgeon insisted that his students rid themselves of any mannerisms or quirks that distracted others by calling attention to themselves instead of to their message. In Spurgeon’s words, “It is not so much incumbent upon you to acquire right pulpit action as it is to get rid of that which is wrong” (273).

Because of his concern for authenticity and effectiveness in the pulpit, Spurgeon admonished his students that “we should never advise you to practice postures before a glass, nor to imitate great divines, nor to ape the fine gentleman; but there is no need, on the other hand, to be vulgar or absurd” (274). Rather, the point is to be oneself when preaching, so that the pastor’s passion for God comes through naturally. Spurgeon was convinced that to feign passion or to produce a gesture self-consciously “at just the right time” contradicts the inherent power of the message and reveals the pastor’s lack of conviction. Instead, the pastor “goes to work with all his heart, and drops into the positions most natural to an earnest man, and these are the most appropriate…. Unstudied gestures, to which you never turned your thoughts for a moment, are the very best” (279). It follows, then, that “perhaps a man is nearest to the golden mean in action when the manner excites no remark either of praise or censure, because it is so completely of a piece with the discourse that it is not regarded as a separate item at all” (284).

Part of why Paul was so angry with the false teachers is that preaching must not be an act. Whether preaching or listening to the preaching of others, we are to “loathe all affectation … all tricks and stage effects are unbearable when the message of the Lord is to be delivered. Better a ragged dress and rugged speech, with artless, honest manner, than clerical foppery. Better far to violate every canon of gracefulness than to be a mere performer, a consummate act, a player upon a religious stage” (301). Just as Paul remained an “amateur in speech,” Spurgeon taught his students that they were to “shun the very appearance of studied gesture … your pulpit manner is only worth a moment’s thought because it may hinder your success by causing people to make remarks about the preacher when you want all their thoughts for the subject” (302).

By “success” in the pulpit, Spurgeon means the successful communication of the gospel, not the successful mastery of rhetorical techniques: “The whole should be, not for the winning of honor to ourselves, but for the glory of God and the good of men; if it be so there is no fear of your violating the rule as to being natural, for it will not occur to you to be otherwise” (302). Hence, by “natural,” Spurgeon means being spontaneously filled with wonder over the glory of God and with heartfelt humility over what God has done for his people. “Above all, be so full of the matter, so fervent, and so gracious that the people will little care how you hand out the word; for if they perceive that it is fresh from heaven, and find it sweet and abundant, they will pay little regard to the basket in which you bring it to them” (303–304).

For this reason, Spurgeon maintains that the most essential quality for success in the ministry is earnestness: “Men prosper in the divine service in proportion as their hearts are blazing with holy love.”⁴² The application of 2 Corinthians 11:1–12:10 to the ministry is clear: “Let mere actors beware, lest they be found sinning against the Holy Spirit by their theatrical performances…. To sham earnestness is one of the most contemptible of dodges for courting popularity; let us abhor the very thought.”⁴³

Not tomorrow, but today! Finally, Paul’s boasting in his weakness challenges our very definition of spirituality. In view of Christ’s own death and resurrection, we should not consider it a strange providence of God that, like Paul, our own greatest experiences of Christ’s grace and power often (though not always) come through our experiences of suffering and difficulties. Indeed, Paul’s testimony that Christ’s “power is made perfect in weakness” (12:9) has been confirmed throughout the ages. John Piper’s “Meditation on Psalm 119:71,” entitled, “Luther, Bunyan, Bible and Pain,” is a poignant reminder of this truth.

From 1660 to 1672, John Bunyan, the English Baptist preacher, and author of Pilgrim’s Progress, was in the Bedford county jail. He could have been released if he had agreed not to preach. He did not know which was worse—the pain of the conditions or the torment of freely choosing it, in view of what it cost his wife and four children. His daughter, Mary, was blind. She was 10 when he was put in jail in 1660.“The parting with my Wife and poor children hath often been to me in this place as the pulling of the Flesh from my bones … not only because I am somewhat too fond of these great Mercies, but also because I … often brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries and wants that my poor Family was like to meet with should I be taken from them, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than all I had besides; Oh the thoughts of the hardship I thought my Blind one might go under, would break my heart to pieces.”⁴⁴But this broken Bunyan was seeing treasures in the Word of God because of this suffering that he would probably not have seen any other way. He was discovering the meaning of Psalm 119:71, “It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes.”“I never had in all my life so great an inlet into the Word of God as now [in prison]. The Scriptures that I saw nothing in before are made in this place to shine upon me. Jesus Christ also was never more real and apparent than now. Here I have seen him and felt him indeed…. I have seen [such things] here that I am persuaded I shall never while in this world be able to express…. Being very tender of me, [God] hath not suffered me to be molested, but would with one scripture and another strengthen me against all; insomuch that I have often said, were it lawful I could pray for greater trouble for the greater comfort’s sake.”⁴⁵In other words, one of God’s gifts to us in suffering is that we are granted to see and experience depths of his Word that a life of ease would never yield. Martin Luther had discovered the same “method” of seeing God in his Word. He said there are three rules for understanding Scripture: praying, meditating and suffering trials. The “trials,” he said, are supremely valuable: they “teach you not only to know and understand but also to experience how right, how true, how sweet, how lovely, how mighty, how comforting God’s word is: it is wisdom supreme.” Therefore the devil himself becomes the unwitting teacher of God’s word: “the devil will afflict you [and] will make a real doctor of you, and will teach you by his temptations to seek and to love God’s Word. For I myself … owe my papists many thanks for so beating, pressing, and frightening me through the devil’s raging that they have turned me into a fairly good theologian, driving me to a goal I should never have reached.”⁴⁶I testify from my small experience that this is true. Disappointment, loss, sickness and fear send me deeper into God and his Word than ever. Clouds of trifling are blown away and the glory of unseen things shines in the heart’s eye. Let Bunyan and Luther encourage us to lean on God’s Word as never before in times of affliction. I know that there are seasons when we cannot think or read, the pain is so great. But God grants spaces of some relief between these terrible times. Turn your gaze on the Word and prove the truth of Psalm 119:71, “It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes.”⁴⁷

If our weakness is the platform for the revelation of Christ’s grace and power, then what do we reveal to the world? In answer to this question, the same Spurgeon who suffered so much himself told his congregation that one of the central points of 2 Corinthians 12:9 is that God’s grace is now sufficient for whatever need we may face. In the end, Paul’s boast in his weakness summons us to trust in the sufficiency of Christ today.

It is easy to believe in grace for the past and the future, but to rest in it for the immediate necessity is true faith…. At this moment, and at all moments which shall ever occur between now and glory, the grace of God will be sufficient for you. This sufficiency is declared without any limiting words [in 12:9], and therefore I understand the passage to mean that the grace of our Lord Jesus is sufficient to uphold thee, sufficient to strengthen thee, sufficient to comfort thee, sufficient to make thy trouble useful to thee, sufficient to enable thee to triumph over it, sufficient to bring thee out of it, sufficient to bring thee out of ten thousand like it, sufficient to bring thee home to heaven. Whatever would be good for thee, Christ’s grace is sufficient to bestow; whatever would harm thee, his grace is sufficient to avert; whatever thou desirest, his grace is sufficient to give thee if it be good for thee; whatever thou wouldst avoid, his grace can shield thee from it if so his wisdom shall dictate…. Here let me press upon you the pleasing duty of taking home the promise personally at this moment, for no believer here need be under any fear, since for him also, at this very instant, the grace of the Lord Jesus is sufficient.⁴⁸