Original Meaning

IN 2:12–3:18, PAUL lays the foundation for the most sustained defense of his apostolic ministry found anywhere in his letters (i.e., 2:14–7:16 and 10:1–13:10). The importance of 2:14–3:18, which we will treat in accordance with its three sections (2:12–3:3; 3:4–6; 3:7–18), is further reflected in that it marks the transition in Paul’s argument from his past dealings with the Corinthians to the issues presently confronting the church. Second Corinthians 2:14–3:18 is therefore both the theological heart and structural turning point of the letter (see outline).

Its interpretation, however, is highly controversial, since this passage is among the most dense and difficult to understand in all of Paul’s writings.¹The meaning of almost every clause is contested. This difficulty is compounded by the fact that Paul develops his argument by offering the most extended interpretation of an Old Testament text found anywhere in his letters. It will therefore be necessary to devote more time to our exposition of its original meaning than is otherwise the case, especially since our applications of it will only be as solid as the exegetical foundation on which they are built.

The disproportionately large amount of space devoted to the original meaning of 2:14–3:18 in comparison to its application is therefore intentional. It reflects Paul’s own strategy, in which he begins his apology for his apostolic ministry by marshalling a massive biblical and theological argument in support of a few fundamental points. The application of 2:14–3:18 is not difficult to apprehend, once we are convinced of the reality that supports it. Moreover, in a real sense, all applications throughout Paul’s letter derive from this foundational passage.

The Reason for Paul’s Last Change of Plans (2:12–13)

IN MAKING THE TRANSITION from the past to the present, Paul’s recent experience in Troas (2:12–13) once again raises the question of the significance of his suffering for the spread of the gospel in general (2:14–16a) and for the life of the Corinthians in particular (2:17). Paul’s sudden switch back to his travel plans in 2:12 thus performs a twofold function. Materially, it provides Paul’s last example of how his changes in travel plans were expressions of Christ-like suffering on behalf of the Corinthians. Structurally, it provides the transition to his direct response to the issues now being raised in Corinth.

Indeed, Paul’s last change of plans appears to be his worst. In anticipation of meeting Titus in order to receive word of how the Corinthians had responded to Paul’s “tearful” letter (cf. 2:4), Paul moved back toward Macedonia by traveling up from Ephesus to Troas. Then, when Titus failed to show up, Paul’s anxiety (lit., Paul had “no rest in [his] spirit”) over Titus and the Corinthians forced him to move on from Troas in spite of the open door for the gospel that he encountered there. The apostle was simply too concerned over Titus and the spiritual condition of the Corinthians to carry on his ministry. Certainly, then, Paul’s opponents could point to this anxiety-ridden decision as apparently incontrovertible evidence that he lacked the power of the Spirit. How else could one explain the fact that Paul’s anxiety drove him away from a clear opportunity to preach the gospel?

By now, Paul’s answer is not surprising. His anxiety over Titus, who was bringing news about whether or not the Corinthians had repented of their rebellion, was yet another concrete example of the suffering God called Paul to bear as an apostle. In fact, his experience in Troas was part of the hardest suffering Paul had to endure. According to 11:28, the climax of the litany of suffering that characterized Paul’s life is the daily “pressure” on him of “concern for all the churches.” Just as Paul’s concern for Titus and the Corinthians originally led him to Troas, so too his concern for them led him on to Macedonia (cf. 7:5–7). Nothing was more important to Paul than their welfare, not even an opportunity to expand his own ministry!

This is why Paul emphasizes in 2:13 that he first said “good-by” before he left Troas. He was not ashamed of leaving. He did not try to sneak out at night when no one was looking. Rather, he took his leave publicly, no doubt making clear his reasons for having to depart. Hence, by filling in the rest of Paul’s recent itinerary, 2:12–13 bring us back to the central theme of Paul’s letter: his suffering as an apostle. In doing so, these verses also prepare the way for the powerful restatement of Paul’s central thesis in 2:14.

“Led Unto Death” in the Ministry (2:14–16a)

MOST STUDENTS OF this passage maintain that it is impossible to move smoothly from Paul’s anxiety over Titus in 2:12–13 to his praise for God in 2:14. The transition from anxiety and apparent failure to praise seems too abrupt. It is therefore often posited that Paul’s praise in 2:14 anticipates prematurely the good news Paul received from Titus as outlined in chapter 7. Others argue that 2:14–7:4 is a fragment from a different letter altogether, usually viewed as having been written earlier than the rest of chapters 1–7 and then inserted later between 2:13 and 7:5.

However, once the reason for Paul’s praise in 2:14 is clearly ascertained, it becomes clear that 2:14 does not pose a break in Paul’s thought at all. Rather, it introduces the necessary and logical response to the suffering introduced in 2:12–13. Without 2:14, Paul’s continuing honesty in 2:12–13 would play right into the hands of his opponents as yet another evidence of his weakness. So before his opponents can utter a word against Paul because of his anxiety over Titus, Paul praises God for it as part and parcel of his apostolic life of suffering, through which God’s power and presence are being revealed.

In 2:14 Paul begins by praising God with a characteristic thanksgiving formula, “but thanks be to God, who …” (cf. 1 Cor. 15:57; 2 Cor. 8:16). Peter O’Brien has demonstrated that these thanksgiving formulas, like their counterparts in other Jewish prayer texts from antiquity, serve a twofold purpose: to set a tone and to establish the themes for what is to come.² Thus, the thanksgiving formula in 2 Corinthians 2:14 performs the same thesis-like function as the blessing formula of 1:3. In both cases, the reasons given for the praise introduce the main themes to follow. Like 1:3, 2:14 is not an unanticipated explosion of gratitude, but a carefully crafted statement that introduces a major new section in his letter by encapsulating the main points to come. In turning to praise God, Paul turns his attention to the main point of his defense against those who have called his ministry into question because of his suffering.

The content of Paul’s thesis, first introduced in 1:3–11, is summarized in the two participles that follow his statement of thanks: “leading in triumph” (thriambeuonti) and “making known” (phanerounti). Paul thanks God because (1) God always “leads us in triumphal procession in Christ,” and, in so doing, (2) “through us spreads [makes known] everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.” As the NIV rightly indicates, the verb often rendered “lead in triumph” (thriambeuo) is actually a technical term that refers to the Roman institution of the triumphal procession. This portrayal of God’s leading Paul in such a procession is the key to the meaning of 2:14 and therefore to what follows.

The triumphal procession was a lavish parade conducted in Rome to celebrate great victories in significant military campaigns. Like a St. Patrick’s Day parade in Chicago, these were major cultural and civic events. Everybody in the Roman empire knew about these parades, which were represented on Roman arches, reliefs, coins, statues, medallions, paintings, and cameos, not to mention the approximately 350 triumphs that are recorded in ancient literature.³ They were ostentatious celebrations, filled with valiant soldiers, the spoils of war, and the most theatrical pomp and circumstance Rome could muster.

Moreover, the triumphal procession demonstrated Rome’s prowess as the victor not only by parading the spoils of war, but also by leading in triumph the most important leaders and intimidating warriors of the enemy, now presented as conquered slaves. The highest honor any Roman Caesar or general could receive would be to lead one of these parades. Conversely, to be led as a prisoner in such a triumphal procession signaled one’s utter defeat. Once the verb thriambeuo is understood as referring to leading or being led in the Roman triumphal procession, we are confronted with the uncomfortable fact that in these parades, “prisoners are said to be led in triumph when to disgrace them they are bound in chains and dragged before the chariot of the conqueror.”⁴

This fact is so startling because in 2:14 Paul is the direct object of the verb, not its subject. Paul is not the one leading the triumphal procession; he is the one being led in it like a prisoner of war! This image is so gruesome that Calvin could not imagine that Paul could praise God for such a thing. Thus, for theological reasons, Calvin changed the meaning of the verb, declaring that “Paul means something different from the common meaning of this phrase.”⁵ Instead of translating 2:14a, “Thanks be to God who always leads us in the triumphal procession,” Calvin gave the verb a causative sense and rendered the text, “Thanks be to God who causes us to triumph.” To Calvin it made better sense to think of Paul praising God because he shared in God’s triumph, like a general walking alongside of the chariot, than to picture Paul being paraded around as a conquered enemy.

Calvin’s translation won the day for almost three hundred years. It is still preserved in the KJV and in the many popular expositions of this passage that speak about our “triumph” in Christ.⁶ But today it is widely recognized that Calvin’s interpretation is linguistically impossible. Paul’s statement can only mean, “Thanks be to God, who always leads us in a triumphal procession.” The only remaining question is what Paul intended this metaphor to signify.

Faced once again with the image of the triumphal procession, the solution to understanding Paul’s metaphor is not to soften the image in some way, but to recognize fully what it meant to “be led in triumph.” The portrayals from the ancient world of these processions make clear that those led in triumphal processions were in fact being led to their death.⁷ At the end of the parade, the Romans publicly slaughtered as a sacrifice to their god(s) those prisoners who had been led in the procession (or at least a representative sample thereof, selling the rest into slavery). Though a gruesome thought to us, what better way to magnify one’s victory, while at the same time offering a sacrifice of gratitude to the gods, than to kill publicly the leaders and the most valiant of the vanquished warriors as the final act of triumph over them?

Ironically, then, Paul’s image of “being led in a triumphal procession” is even more repugnant than usually recognized. The role of those led in triumph was to reveal the glory of the one who had conquered them, ultimately through their public execution and death. By using this well-known cultural event to describe his own life as an apostle, Paul’s point is that, as the one “being led in triumph,” God is leading Paul to his death. This meaning of the metaphor is confirmed by its parallel use in Colossians 2:15, the only other passage where thriambeuo is used in the New Testament. There God, as the victor, having disarmed the rulers and authorities of this age, has led them in a triumphal procession, the result of which is his public display of their defeat and destruction.

Read against the background of the triumphal procession, Paul’s metaphor in 2:14 may be “decoded” as follows: As the enemy of God’s people, God had conquered Paul at his conversion call on the road to Damascus and was now leading him, as a “slave of Christ” (his favorite term for himself as an apostle), to death in Christ, in order that Paul might display or reveal the majesty, power, and glory of God, his conqueror.

But why use such a gruesome metaphor to describe his apostolic life? And why use it here? The answer becomes clear in the light of the other passages within the Corinthian correspondence in which Paul discusses his experiences as an apostle. There too Paul consistently uses the image of being given over to or sentenced to death as a metonymy for his suffering (1 Cor. 4:8–13 [cf. 4:9]; 2 Cor. 1:3–11 [cf. 1:9]; 4:7–12 [cf. 4:10]; 6:3–10 [cf. 6:9]). A metonymy is a figure of speech in which the name of one thing is used for that of another with which it is usually associated. For example, we use “crown” as a metonymy for the queen of England, the royal family, and all that that tradition implies when we say, “This land belongs to the crown.” In the same way, Paul could use “death” and images of death as a metonymy for his suffering, since death is an essential part of suffering and suffering’s crowning achievement. This is why, against the backdrop of the danger and suffering he endured in Ephesus, including fighting with wild beasts, Paul could declare in 1 Corinthians 15:31, “I die every day.”

Furthermore, in all these passages, as in 2:14, Paul’s suffering, as the corollary to and embodiment of his message of the cross, is the very thing God uses to make himself known (in addition to the texts listed above, cf. 1 Cor. 2:2–5). Far from calling his apostleship into question, Paul’s point in 2:14 is that his suffering, here portrayed in terms of being led to death in the Roman triumphal procession, is the means through which God is revealing himself. This revelation of God’s power and glory took place in two ways. Either God rescued Paul from adversity when it was too much to bear (cf. 1:8–11), or, having strengthened Paul’s hope through such experiences of deliverance, enabled him to endure his adversity with thanksgiving to God (cf. 4:7–12; 6:3–10). The latter way was even more glorious than the former (cf. 12:9). In other words, God continually leads Paul to death in a triumphal procession and in this way everywhere reveals the knowledge of him (2:14a).⁸

In 2:14b–16a, Paul continues to describe the nature and function of his ministry metaphorically, this time under the images of a “fragrance” and “aroma.” Through Paul’s suffering, the “fragrance” of the knowledge of God is being spread everywhere (v. 14b) because Paul is the “aroma of Christ” to God (v. 15; again taking the “we” of v. 15 to be a literary plural referring to Paul in his role as an apostle). Many have suggested that these references continue the image of the triumphal procession by picturing the incense that was often carried through the streets as part of the celebration. But both in Judaism and elsewhere in Paul’s writings, the images of “fragrance” and “aroma” are sometimes used together or sometimes separately, as synonyms (as they are here), to refer in a technical sense to the odor of a sacrifice pleasing to God.⁹

In view of these parallels and given Paul’s biblical frame of reference, it is better to read 2:14b–16a as a reference to Old Testament sacrifice. Taken in this way, Paul is practicing effective cross-cultural communication. First he introduces the familiar image of the Roman triumphal procession in order to portray the role his suffering plays as an apostle, and then he uses sacrificial imagery from the Scriptures in order to unpack its significance.

As 2:15 makes clear, the knowledge being spread through Paul’s suffering is the “fragrance” of Christ himself that rises up to God from Paul’s life. More specifically, Christ is pictured as the sacrifice and Paul as the odor that arises from it. The knowledge of God manifest in the cross of Christ is now being revealed through Paul’s suffering among those to whom he is sent (cf. Col. 1:24). To encounter Paul in his suffering on behalf of his churches is to encounter a picture of the crucified Christ, who died for his people. For this reason, Paul supports his praise in verse 14 by pointing in verses 15–16b to the twofold impact that God’s self-revelation in Christ brings about through Paul’s suffering: Those who are being saved welcome his suffering as an expression of the glory of God revealed in the crucified Christ, while those who are perishing reject Paul’s suffering as foolishness, just as they reject the cross of Christ.

Furthermore, 2:16a declares that the character of a person’s moral disposition determines the nature of his or her response (v. 16a reads lit., “to the latter, an aroma from death unto death; to the former, an aroma from life unto life”). Paul is merely an instrument that, like a litmus-paper test, makes manifest the true nature of a person’s heart. The implied admonition to the Corinthians in this passage is therefore striking. How they respond to Paul’s declaration in 2:14 is a clear indication of where they stand concerning the divide between life and death created by the cross of Christ and manifest through Paul’s ministry.

This reading of Paul’s argument is confirmed by the parallels between 1 Corinthians 1:17–18 and 2 Corinthians 2:14–16a. Paul’s ministry and message were one; what Paul could say about the cross of Christ in 1 Corinthians 1:17–18, he could reaffirm about his own life as an apostle in 2 Corinthians 2:14–16. Hence, as the “aroma of Christ,” Paul’s suffering brings about the same twofold effect caused by his proclamation of the cross:

1. Paul is sent to preach in a mode that corresponds to the cross of Christ (1:17; cf. 2:1, 4).	1. Paul is “being led to death,” which is a mode of existence that reveals the cross of Christ (2:14).
2. For (gar) (18a)	2. For (hoti) (15a)
3. the word of the cross (15a)	3. we are an aroma of Christ to God
4. is foolishness to those who are perishing (18a)	4. among those who are perishing … to those a fragrance from death to death (15c, 16a)
5. to us who are being saved it is the power of God (18c).	5. among those who are being saved … to those a fragrance from life to life (15b, 16a).

For Paul, therefore, the cross of Christ determined both the manner of his life and the content of his message. Conversely, his manner of life embodied and displayed his message. As a result, Paul recognized that his life and ministry functioned to further the process of salvation (“life”) and judgment (“death”) in the lives of others. To reject Paul and his message as “foolishness” confirmed that one was already “perishing.” To accept Paul and his message demonstrated that the power of God was already at work to save. As an extension of the cross of Christ, Paul’s life and message are the means God uses to propagate the process of salvation and judgment in the world by revealing the character of people’s hearts.

Paul’s Sufficiency for the Ministry (2:16b–17)

THE SIGNIFICANCE PAUL attaches to his ministry in 2:14–16a can hardly be overemphasized. His ministry manifests and moves along a person’s eternal destiny. The magnitude of such a calling naturally leads to the rhetorical question of 2:16b: “And who is equal to [lit., sufficient for] such a task?” In view of Paul’s high calling, it is often suggested that the implied answer to this question is “no one,” as if Paul’s question indicated a humble resignation in the face of such a responsibility.¹⁰ Others suppose that Paul answers the question negatively because he has self-sufficiency in view, even though there is no hint of such a concept in the word hikanos (“sufficient”). Although such views may seem natural to us, Paul’s implied answer to the question, “Who is sufficient for these things?” is better understood as, “I am!” In being “led to death” as the “aroma of Christ,” Paul is confident that God is making himself known.

This interpretation is confirmed by two factors. (1) The language of “sufficiency” used here alludes to the call of Moses in Exodus 4:10, where in the LXX Moses responds to God’s call by declaring that he is not “sufficient” (hikanos) for the task. In the context of Exodus 4, Moses is then made sufficient by God himself. Paul too sees his sufficiency as coming from God (cf. 2 Cor. 3:4–6). By alluding to Moses’ call, Paul’s point is that, as in the case of Moses, God is the one who has made Paul sufficient for his ministry (cf. 1 Cor. 15:9–10, where the same “sufficiency” motif is used). Only if Paul expected a positive answer to 2:16b—that is, “I am, by God’s grace”—does the argument in 3:4–6, based on Paul’s call to be an apostle, make sense.

(2) The logical relationship between the implied answer to the question of 2:16b and the statement of verse 17 confirms this interpretation. Verse 17 is intended to support the implied answer of verse 16b (unfortunately, the NIV does not translate the conjunction gar [“for, because”] that introduces v. 17). Such a move only makes sense if Paul has just declared that he, not his opponents, is the one who is sufficient for the apostolic ministry. The very suffering that his opponents have argued calls Paul’s ministry into question is the means by which he shows himself sufficient as an apostle. If Paul had just denied his sufficiency for the apostolic ministry, the comparison in the following verse makes no sense.

In verse 17, therefore, Paul supports his sufficiency for the ministry by comparing his practice of preaching the gospel free of charge to that of the “many” who accept, even demand, money for their ministry. Unlike them, Paul does not “peddle the word of God for profit.” Though a matter of debate, the fact that Paul contrasts himself negatively to this group, together with the image he uses to do so, indicates that he is not referring to the apostles listed in 1 Corinthians 9:5, or to their counterpart, the “super-apostles” of 2 Corinthians 11:5 and 12:11. In each of these cases, Paul compares himself positively to these other genuine apostles, and nowhere does he call into question their receiving financial support for their ministry (in 1 Cor. 9, Paul explicitly defends their right to do so). In contrast, Paul is referring here to those opponents who have recently arrived in Corinth (i.e., the “false apostles” of 2 Cor. 11:4, 13–15).

No doubt Paul’s opponents had interpreted his practice of preaching the gospel without charge as a sign of the worthlessness of his message (if it were valuable, he would have charged a high price for it; after all, you get what you pay for).¹¹ In 2:17, Paul responds by reminding the Corinthians that he had freely given up his right to financial support in Corinth in order, out of love for the Corinthians, to avoid erecting a stumbling block for the gospel (cf. 1 Cor. 9:1–23; 2 Cor. 11:7–15; 12:13–16). That Paul’s decision to preach in Corinth for free was motivated by love can be seen in the many sufferings that he willingly underwent as a direct result of this decision (cf. 1 Cor. 4:11–13; 2 Cor. 6:4–5; 11:26–27). Only a genuine love for the Corinthians and Paul’s commitment to the gospel could lead to such voluntary suffering. Paul’s actions testify to the sincerity of his speech.

In contrast, Paul’s choice of words in 2:17 indicates that it was his opponents’ practice, like that of a retailer in the market, that was suspicious (Gk. kapeleuo means to peddle for profit like a retailer). In Paul’s day, to compare his opponents to those who sold wares in the market was no compliment. Retailers in the ancient world were infamous for their dishonesty. Such a comparison was thus a common way to cast doubt on someone’s character and motives, without calling into question the fact of being paid, which was legitimate for those worthy of their hire.¹²

Paul’s opponents presumably claimed and took pride in the fact that their practice of receiving money for their ministry paralleled that of the pillar apostles themselves (cf. 1 Cor. 9:3–6). Paul counters by comparing them not to the pillar apostles but to peddlers. In so doing, he uses their own boast against them. In taking money, like retailers in the market, it was their motives, not his, that smacked of “shady business,” a “sham” built around the gospel itself (cf. 2 Cor. 11:20). If anyone is trying to con the Corinthians, it cannot be Paul. His manner of life, including his suffering for the sake of the Corinthians, is a window to his sincere motives, which in turn are a manifestation of the grace of God in his life (cf. 1:12).

Moreover, Paul is aware that as an apostle (i.e., he speaks “in Christ”), he preaches the gospel under the judgment of God (i.e., he speaks “before God”), since God is the one who has called him (i.e., he speaks as one “sent from God”). Paul’s entire life as an apostle is contained in these prepositional phrases! Just as God’s call is the foundation of his apostolic ministry, so too the reality of God’s judgment is its refining fire. Paul, like all believers, lives before God, who is both his gracious provider and his sovereign ruler. The motivation for Paul’s preaching is therefore the same: God himself as the source (cf. 1 Cor. 1:30; 7:7; 8:6; 11:12; 12:7ff.; 2 Cor. 5:18) and judge (cf. 2 Cor. 4:2; 5:9–11; 12:19) of all things. Thus, it is Paul’s practice of self-support in Corinth, not his opponents’ insistence on being paid for their preaching, that is the true expression of God’s grace and calling. And it is his ministry, not theirs, that will be vindicated before God’s judgment. Talk is cheap. But Paul’s declaration of his sufficiency is supported by his willingness to preach for free.

Understood as a reference to his practice of self-support, verse 17 continues Paul’s argument for the legitimacy of his ministry introduced in 2:12–13. In other words, the description of his ministry in 2:14–16 is framed by two examples of his love for the Corinthians: his willingness to leave Troas and his willingness to preach the gospel in Corinth without charge. Both occasioned great suffering on his part that he nevertheless embraced for their sake and for the sake of the gospel in response to God’s call in his life. In short, Paul ministers as one “sent from God” (2:17c).

At the same time, far from calling his apostleship into question, Paul’s apostolic suffering “in Christ,” as the embodiment of his proclamation, is that which shows him approved by God. In Paul’s words, knowing that he speaks “before God” as judge, Paul does so with the “sincerity” that comes from the grace of God himself (2:17b; cf. 1:12). As a result, Paul’s assertion that he is not like his opponents is an evidential argument for the divine origin and approval of his apostolic ministry.

Paul’s Letter of Recommendation for the Ministry (3:1–3)

PAUL’S ARGUMENT NOW takes a decisive turn. Up to now, he has argued for the legitimacy of his ministry based on his suffering as the divinely ordained means for mediating the comfort of God to believers (1:3–11) and the knowledge of God to the world (2:14–17). Beginning in 3:1–3, Paul vies for the validity of his apostleship based on the presence and power of the Spirit as the specific content of his mediation. If the means of Paul’s apostolic ministry is his suffering, the Spirit is its content as the one who converts and comforts the Christian and convicts the world (1:21–22; 2:15–16a). By embodying the gospel, Paul mediates the Spirit.

The transition in Paul’s train of thought is marked by the two rhetorical questions of 3:1, both of which anticipate a negative response (he introduces them in 3:1a with the negative particle me). In view of his suffering and weakness, Paul’s opponents had evidently dismissed his exalted claims as an apostle to be nothing more than unsubstantiated “hot air.” His rhetorical questions and their implied answer anticipate this charge once again. Paul is not engaging in mere self-commendation when he claims that his suffering is the divinely orchestrated vehicle of God’s self-revelation, as if he had no evidence to back up what he said.¹³ After all, his leaving Troas and his practice of self-support are clear evidence of his genuine nature as an apostle.

Nor, for the same reasons, does he have to rely on letters of recommendation from others to validate his claims, as his opponents do for theirs. In the ancient world, like today, the need for letters of recommendation indicated that someone lacked his own evidence to back up the claims being made. Letters of recommendation are a substitute source of credibility. But Paul’s work as an apostle speaks for itself, especially his founding of the church in Corinth (10:12–18; cf. 1 Cor. 4:14–17; 15:10). Thus, the Corinthians themselves are Paul’s “letter of recommendation” (2 Cor. 3:2; cf. 1 Cor. 9:1–2). It is this “letter” (i.e., the Corinthians themselves as Christians) that Paul carries around “written on our hearts,” so that it can be “known and read by everybody.”

That the Corinthians are “written” (lit., engraved) on Paul’s heart does not mean that he has warm feelings for them, but that he is committed to act on their behalf as their “father” in the faith (cf. 1 Cor. 4:15). Paul’s willingness to support himself for the sake of the gospel (1 Cor. 4:11–12; 9:12–23; 2 Cor. 2:17; 6:3, 11–13; 12:14–15), his concern for the Corinthians’ welfare (1 Cor. 4:14–15; 2 Cor. 11:2–4), and his anxiety for their salvation (2 Cor. 1:12–2:13; 7:4; 11:28) make it obvious to all that these believers are on his heart as his children (cf. 7:3). Once again, his way of life reveals the content of his heart.

Conversely, the very existence of the Corinthians as Christians testifies to the power of the Spirit in and through Paul’s ministry. This is the point of 3:3. The Corinthians are Paul’s “letter of recommendation” (3:1) because they show themselves to be “a letter from Christ,” that is, those whom Christ has “written,” a metaphor referring to their conversion (3:3a). The force of Paul’s argument resides not in their having become Christians per se, but in their having done so as “the result of our ministry” (3:3b; lit., “you are a letter of Christ, having been ministered¹⁴ by us”). Since the church in Corinth is a direct result of Paul’s ministry, to deny him now would be tantamount to denying their own spiritual experience as Christians (something the pride-prone Corinthians are not inclined to do).

Paul’s statement in 3:2 leads him to refer in 3:3a–b to the status of the Corinthians as believers, which in turn leads him in 3:3c to picture their new identity in terms of the Old Testament imagery of Ezekiel 11:19 and 36:26–27: The Corinthians, as Christ’s “letter,” have been written “not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God,” and written “not on tablets of stone, but on tablets of human hearts.” Paul here establishes two contrasts, not one: a contrast between the two means of writing (human agency of ink versus the Spirit) and a contrast between the two spheres of the writing (the old covenant tablets of the law versus the new covenant “tablets” of the human heart).¹⁵ The apostle’s ministry of “writing” with the Spirit, who is at work in the human heart, is contrasted with the old covenant ministry of the “writing” that took place on the stone tablets of the law (cf. Ex. 24:12; 31:18; 32:15; 34:1; Deut. 9:10).

It is crucial to see that this contrast is essentially not one of kind, but of time within the history of redemption.¹⁶ Under the old covenant, the locus of God’s activity was in the law; in the new age promised by Ezekiel, God will be at work in human hearts by the power of the Spirit. Paul’s ministry is therefore nothing less than a fulfillment of the promise of the new covenant as prophesied by Ezekiel. The Corinthians need look only at themselves for proof that the new age of the new covenant has dawned (cf. Isa. 32:15; 44:3; 59:21; Joel 2:28–29; also the use of Jer. 31:31–34 in 2 Cor. 3:6). Their rejection of Paul’s ministry, therefore, means not only a denial of their own genuine existence as believers, but also a disavowal of God’s work in Christ as the fulfillment of the prophetic hope.

As a result, to reject Paul’s apostleship is to place oneself outside of the work of God in the world (cf. 2 Cor. 13:5, 10). If Moses is the “lawgiver,” who mediates the Sinai covenant as a result of the Exodus, Paul is the “Spirit-giver,” who mediates the new covenant as a result of the “second-exodus” that has come about through Christ. Like Moses, Paul is called to be a mediator between God and his people. Unlike Moses, the essential content of Paul’s mediation is not the law, but the Spirit.

Bridging Contexts

INASMUCH AS THIS section develops the theme and thesis of 1:3–11, the same principles are in play here that governed Paul’s earlier discussion. But while 1:3–11 focused on Paul’s suffering as the vehicle for displaying the power of God for the comfort of believers, 2:12–3:3 focuses on Paul’s suffering as the vehicle for revealing the knowledge of God for the proclamation of the gospel. In line with this switch in focus, our present passage reveals five bedrock convictions that further undergird Paul’s self-understanding and support the legitimacy of his apostolic ministry. These pillars of Paul’s thought should likewise undergird any application of this passage.

(1) Paul is convinced that God is sovereign over the circumstances of his life, even his suffering. God is the one who “leads [him to death] in the triumphal procession” (2:14a).

(2) Paul understands that for believers, and especially for his own calling as an apostle, the suffering of this life becomes a conduit for the revelation of God’s presence and power (2:14b). Far from calling his apostleship into question because of the “missed opportunity” it caused in Troas (2:12–13), Paul’s anxiety is the very means God ordained to express Paul’s sufficiency for the gospel ministry (2:16a). Paul is sufficient for the life-and death-producing proclamation of the cross because in his suffering he embodies the “fragrance” of Christ’s death. It is precisely through Paul’s suffering that the reality of Christ’s person, the reliability of God’s Word, and the restoration of the Spirit are made known. Paul’s life is an embodiment of the gospel he preaches. It follows then that those who reject the cross of Christ as the power of God (cf. 1 Cor. 1:17–25) will also reject Paul because of his suffering (2:15–16a). Hence, one’s reaction to Paul is a reflection of one’s spiritual condition.

(3) Paul is confident that his sufficiency as an apostle can also be seen in his willingness to endure the inevitable suffering that came from preaching the gospel for free in Corinth (2:17). The motives of the heart are manifest in the manner of one’s life (3:2).

(4) Paul can point to the Corinthians’ Christian experience as evidence for his own legitimacy as an apostle because the presence of the Spirit in the life of the believer is undeniable (3:2–3). Consequently, they cannot reject Paul without at the same time rejecting their own spirituality. Conversely, Paul is sufficient for the ministry of life and death (2:16), not because of his own natural aptitudes, but because of the Spirit’s work in and through him (3:3b). Paul’s confidence therefore ultimately derives from the dawning of the new age of the new covenant (3:3), a reality that impacts all he does and expects.

(5) Though the focus of this passage is on Paul’s own legitimacy as an apostle, the ultimate goal of the text was to cause the Corinthians to be confident in their own standing as believers (cf. 1:24). The point was not to vindicate Paul per se, but to vindicate Paul for the sake of vindicating those who have placed their trust in his gospel and ministry. In a real sense, then, in focusing on himself Paul is calling for his readers to focus on their own standing “before God” (2:17). Paul and his message become the instrument for measuring where one stands with God.

Hence, given their foundational nature in Paul’s argument, we too may appropriate the same perspectives employed in this passage when discerning the validity of our Christian claims. To do so, Paul’s five convictions may be expressed in a series of questions, which together help expose the nature of our spiritual condition: (1) Do we show a growing trust in God’s sovereignty over the circumstances of life? (2) Do we increasingly reflect the peace and praise that come from understanding the role of suffering in the lives of Christians? (3) Do we progressively demonstrate the kind of loving actions that flow from a willingness to give up our rights for the sake of others? (4) Do we give evidence of the transforming work of the Spirit in our willingness to stand for the truth as God’s people? (5) Do our lives model for others what it means to imitate Christ?

Ultimately, of course, the issue is not Paul at all. As he himself indicates, the overarching perspective that governs all such evaluations is the awareness that God is the judge, since he alone knows the true nature of our actions and the motives that drive them (cf. 2:17). Paul is not calling us to pass judgment on one another according to our own standards and experiences, but to live in the knowledge that we all stand before God’s righteous judgment. In the end, we are all measured by his character as revealed in his Word and embodied in his Son.

Contemporary Significance

THE NATURE OF Christian ministry. Paul’s argument for his legitimacy as an apostle calls into question the prevailing view of the ministry in our day. It was the character of Paul’s life and the transforming work of the Spirit, not his personality and his “success” in growing large churches, that recommended him as a true representative of Jesus Christ. In direct defiance of his opponents’ criticism, Paul’s argument in 2:12–3:3 reflects his persuasion that the condition of the heart, not the performance of the preacher, determines a person’s response to the proclamation of the gospel (2:14–15a; cf. 1 Cor. 1:17–19; 2:1–5; 2 Cor. 4:3–4; 10:10; 11:6).

Paul’s understanding of the nature of Christian ministry strikes a piercing blow against all attempts, whether in Paul’s day or our own, to fashion ministries and messages around techniques and technology. As children of the entertainment age, our culturally conditioned reflex is to make creating right environments for hearing the gospel our priority, instead of relying first and foremost on the power of the Spirit to call people to repentance. Our tendency is to concentrate on “working the angles” instead of relying on Christ to work. Rather than viewing the pastor as a mediator of the Spirit in conjunction with the proclamation of the Word, the minister becomes a “professional” whose job it is to manage the corporate life of the congregation and oversee the creation of meaningful worship “events.” David Wells has poignantly pointed out the dangerous consequences of this movement in contemporary American culture:

As the technological world has encroached upon the pastorate, management by technique has come to replace management by truth….The result, according to Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon, is practical atheism…. It is an atheism that reduces the Church to nothing more than the services it offers or the good feelings the minister can generate. In other words … the ministry will typically be deprived of its transcendence and reduced to little more than a helping profession…. It is under this guise of piety—indeed, of professionalization—that pastoral unbelief lives out its life.¹⁷

In response, our congregations often no longer view themselves as those whom God has called in Christ to seek and worship the Lord in the power of the Spirit. Nor does the church view herself through the lens of redemptive history as the people called to mediate God’s glory to the ends of the earth (note the argument from the fulfillment of Scripture in 3:3). Instead, she becomes a conglomerate of consumers held together only by its common view that this or that particular church happens to be the institution in the area best designed to provide the services sought. Going to church is more like going to a supermarket than like getting together with family. As in Paul’s day, so too today, the popular preachers are frequently those who give the people what they “want,” religiously speaking, thereby confirming them in their own self-understanding and self-reliance. As Wells points out:

What this means in practice is that the minister … has become vulnerable to a multitude of perils. Within the Church, strong winds are blowing from a range of religious consumers who look to the churches and ministers to meet their needs—and who quickly look elsewhere if they feel those needs are not being met. Basically, these consumers are looking for the sort of thing the self movement is offering; they just want it in evangelical dress. A genuinely biblical and God-centered ministry is almost certain to collide head-on with the self-absorption and anthropocentric focus that are now normative in so many evangelical churches. The collisions take place in the soul of the minister and at the expense of his or her career.¹⁸

The nature of being Christian. As the corollary to his own suffering and the power of the Spirit in his life (not suffering versus the Spirit), Paul’s portrayal of his ministry also calls into question our image of the Spirit-filled Christian. Like Paul’s opponents, we too find it hard to shake the “health and wealth gospel,” with its promise of God’s physical and financial blessing for the faithful. In our age of materialism, we find it almost impossible to fathom that God would not only use suffering as the vehicle for manifesting the presence and power of his Spirit, but also actually lead someone to death for the sake of revealing his glory and spreading the gospel (2:14). Instead, we strive hard to give the impression that Christians overcome suffering and want, rather than finding Christ strong in their very evident weakness.

Though we do not often express it overtly, deep down we are still convinced that if we just had enough faith, we should be able to beat or avoid the adversity around us. We believe, somehow, that true followers of Christ should not have to endure the kind of health problems and heartache known to our neighbors. At least our marriages should work and all our children should be Christians. This “health and wealth” assumption is even more evident in regard to pastors, both in terms of our expectations for them and in regard to their own self-understandings. We naturally assume that the handsome and healthy are strong in the Lord, especially if they are skilled rhetorically. Yet from Paul’s perspective the dominant characteristic of those in whom God is mightily at work is their confident endurance in the midst of adversity. Our pastors are to model perseverance, not personality; morality, not miracles.

Moreover, with Paul as their example, pastors should not be surprised when God’s leading takes them into deeper waters of suffering than those experienced by their people. This is especially true of suffering caused by the anxiety they will experience over the spiritual health of their churches (cf. 2:12–13; cf. 6:3–10; 11:28). A pastor’s heart is a broken heart.

Although the church in the West is not presently suffering the persecution so common elsewhere in the world, many pastors today, like Paul in Corinth, have to endure the low-grade but discouraging suffering that comes from financial uncertainty, underpayment, and cultural disdain. This may lead in turn to the unnecessary burden of having to work to support themselves in addition to carrying on the work of the ministry. Whereas Paul supported himself voluntarily in order to avoid placing a stumbling block in the way of the gospel, today such “tent-making” in the West often results from the materialism of believers and their lack of esteem for the ministry.

The inability of many congregations to support their pastors adequately or to support the planting of churches elsewhere is often a consequence of people’s unwillingness to part with their money for the sake of the ministry. In other cases, this unwillingness is caused by the low value associated with the ministry itself. This is derived in part from the fact that the minister has allowed himself to be viewed as a low-grade personnel manager, a free alternative to expensive counseling, a purveyor of moral values for the children, a programmer of healthy activities for the youth, and an emotional cheerleader in times of crisis. In this sense, we pay our pastors what we think they are really worth.

The nature of faith. Paul’s ability in 2:17 to determine the motives of his opponents by their actions, together with his insistence in 3:2 that his own love for the Corinthians can be seen in his willingness to suffer on their behalf, confronts the “easy believism” that marks so much of the church today. In view of Paul’s teaching, we simply must not continue to deceive ourselves into thinking that lifestyles of self-serving greed, sexual impurity, self-preserving dishonesty, and prestige-seeking careerism are merely the result of “not yet becoming who we are in Christ.” Nothing less than the integrity of our message is at stake in the manner of our lives. Our actions are a manifestation of our moral condition.

There is no dichotomy between the private and public spheres of our lives. Paul would not accept that those who use the goodwill and Christian charity of others for personal gain, privilege, and prestige are preaching and living out the gospel of Christ, no matter how strong their claims. At the same time, Paul’s own willingness to forgive the offender and his admonition to the Corinthians to do the same in 2:5–11 demonstrates that he is not a perfectionist. His emphasis in 3:18 on the continuous process of transformation shows that his expectation is not perfection over night, but progression over a lifetime. The pathway to becoming more like Christ is paved with repentance (cf. 2 Cor. 7:9–12).

The manner of our lives, including repentance, must increasingly match the character of the gospel we profess. The need for maturity in this matter is especially true for those who claim to be leaders of God’s people. It should go without saying that pastors must practice what they preach, including repentance. That many still do not is itself an indictment of our times. As Richard Baxter (1615–1691) put it in his classic work from 1656, The Reformed Pastor, and modeled in his life: “Take heed to yourselves, lest your example contradict your doctrine, and lest you lay such stumbling-blocks before the blind, as may be the occasion of their ruin; lest you unsay with your lives, what you say with your tongues.”¹⁹ Indeed, as J. I. Packer observes, “the Puritans were men of the Spirit; lovers of the Lord, keepers of his law, and self-squanderers in his service, which are in every age the three main elements of the truly Spirit-filled life.”²⁰

The nature of the Spirit’s presence. The flip-side to Paul’s insistence that those who preach the gospel must live its virtues, including repentance and the forgiveness of the repentant, is his expectation that the Spirit’s presence in the world is not invisible or private, but palpable and powerful. Paul’s “holiness” theology is not a call to pull ourselves up by our own spiritual bootstraps. The life of faith is the work of the Spirit. But the Spirit does not invade our lives in order to go on vacation! For those in whom the Spirit dwells, we must be able to taste the “fruit of the Spirit” (Gal. 5:22) or “the fruit of righteousness” (Phil. 1:11) in our attitudes and actions.

Paul would never accept the modern attempt to relegate religion to a private affair of one’s innermost thoughts and beliefs. He casts the purpose of his ministry in terms of unveiling and praising the glory of God (cf. 1:3, 11, 20; 2:14). To do so reflects his assumption that God is not an Idea to be believed, but a Person to be encountered and trusted; or better, a Person who encounters us with the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (1:9, 22; 2:14b; 3:3). The Spirit raises us from the deadness of our sinful lives and makes us “a letter from Christ,” who speak of his transforming grace in our own words and display his power by our deeds. For as we have seen, Paul’s argument in 3:1–3 was based on his certitude that the promise from Ezekiel 36:25–26 is now being fulfilled in and through his own ministry of the gospel. Certainly this is still the case today.

Thus, Paul’s emphasis in this passage on the transforming power of the Spirit supports the recently renewed focus in many circles on the formation of Christian character within the community of faith as the central task of Christian ethics. As Stanley Hauerwas argues, Christian ethics should be viewed under the metaphor of life as a “journey,” in contrast to the prevailing Lutheran view of life as a “dialogue.” The latter view emphasizes “the dual nature of the self, the ‘internal,’ justified self divorced from the ‘external,’ sinful self—the passive self from the active. This has been more than just a theological description, for it has frequently implied that what a man does and how he acts have relatively little to do with his real ‘internal,’ justified self.”²¹ Such a dichotomy cannot be maintained in view of Paul’s argument in this passage concerning the significance of his own suffering and the testimony of the Corinthians’ experience of the Spirit.

Paul’s point, in the end, is that what makes one a member of God’s people, whether Moses in the tent of meeting or Suzie and Jim in the church on the corner, is a life-transforming encounter with the glory of God (1:18–22; cf. 3:16–18). This is the basis for the next stage of Paul’s argument: “With unveiled faces” (3:18) we are irresistibly drawn to the beauty and majesty of the sovereign Lord, whose image we take on by trusting in his all-sufficiency to such a degree that we are free to love others in obedience to his commands. This is the “letter of recommendation” brought about through the gospel by the Spirit of the living God (3:2), who, in fulfillment of Ezekiel’s promise, causes us to walk in God’s statutes as “a letter from Christ” (3:3).

Therefore, those who minister the gospel are not technicians trained to provide services (not even worship services). They are mediators of the Spirit, who preach Christ in accordance with the Scriptures and embody his character in their own faithful endurance and love for others. The contemporary significance of Paul’s perspective is its call to recover our awareness of and dependence on the reality of the Spirit, convinced that the Spirit is vital, not supplemental, to the life and witness of the church (3:1–3).

Together with this, Paul’s self-understanding must cause us, especially as Christian leaders, to pray for a renewed willingness to suffer for the sake of others and, in faithfulness to God’s calling, to be led into suffering for the sake of the gospel. Only in this way will the knowledge of God, in the cross and by the Spirit, be made known in every generation (2:12–17). We cannot “manage” the kind of suffering, divine self-revelation, and transformation Paul envisions in this text. It is the result of a miraculous invasion of our lives by the power and presence of God himself. Only the glory of God can drive out the glitter and tinsel of this world. For Paul’s confidence and hope do not reside in his own power as a motivational speaker, but in the power of the Spirit (3:4, 12; cf. again 1 Cor. 2:1–5).