With this passage we have reached a climax in this letter. Some of it may seem a little obscure, but if you’ve just joined us for this one sermon you’ve done well. Because in the next 20 minutes we’re going to be looking at the main message of the whole letter. This was the one not to miss! I’ve entitled it The Trouble with Boasting and the Secret of Power – and those are the two topics that cover the two paragraphs; but I’ve provided slightly more interesting headings, I hope. Here’s the first one.
1) “Jesus loves me just a little bit more than He loves you” (12:1-6)
‘I must go on boasting,’ says Paul (v. 1a). But he was playing this boasting game in order to show up some rival teachers who’d arrived in Corinth, as we saw last week. He was boasting in order to bring an end to all boasting. ‘I must go on boasting. Although there is nothing to be gained, [by that he means that there was no spiritual benefit in it for the Corinthians] I will go on to visions and revelations from the Lord’ (v. 1). Notice his coy reluctance to recount what follows in the first person: ‘I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do no know – God knows. And I know that this man – whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows – was caught up to paradise. He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell. I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses’ (vv. 2-5). But in the next two verses Paul gives the game away and reveals that it is actually himself that he is speaking of: ‘Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no-one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say. To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations [so clearly they have been revelations to him], there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me’ (vv. 6, 7).
This had occurred some time ago, 14 years ago, precisely. It was very special for Paul. By the third heaven, or paradise, which are probably the same place, he probably means the highest heaven, the very presence of God Himself. Notice Paul is happy to admit his ignorance about it. Twice he says: ‘Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know – God knows’. But notice, perhaps more significantly, what he was able to tell the Corinthians about it: ‘He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell’ (v. 4b). What was he able to tell the Corinthians about it? Nothing. “I had a vision of God, I was caught right up into His presence. Do you know what I saw? God told me what I can tell you – He said, ‘Tell them nothing!’ ” A strange sort of vision, wasn’t it? “I had a vision; I just can’t tell you what it was. God spoke to me – He said, ‘Don’t tell them anything!’ ” What sort of a vision is this? What sort of word of knowledge do we have here? Right up into the presence of God, and what’s he told? “Don’t say anything about it.” “I’ll tell you what to say: say nothing”. It’s really an anti-testimony, isn’t it? What’s going on here? It’s not the sort of thing that’s going to impress people.
And notice it runs on into the next paragraph: ‘To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’ (vv. 7–9a). “Here is my testimony about answered prayer: I have this problem and I went to God, I pleaded with Him to take it away, and do you know what He said to me? He said, ‘No, I won’t.’ I had a vision and God told me not to tell it, but I can tell you what He did say to me: He said, ‘I’m not going to grant your prayer’”. That’s not what we expect to hear, is it? Here is the Apostle Paul opening his heart about his deepest spiritual experiences. And what were they? One he had been told not to tell to anybody else, and when it came to his prayers, God saying, “I won’t grant them.” If that doesn’t stand on it’s head what we expect about this sort of thing, I don’t know whatever will. This is a very different sort of spirituality from the spirituality that boasts.
So, what is wrong with boasting?
(a) It gets people to think a little more of me than is warranted: ‘Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no-one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say’ (v. 6). It puffs us up. It makes people think more of us than is warranted by what we do or say. There was a man born 549 years ago today who probably could have felt quite proud of something in his life. March 9th 1454 Amerigo Vespucci was born in Florence. Do you know why he could have been proud? He was an Italian maritime explorer and he got America called after him. It’s quite a great achievement in life: to get America called after you!
Most of us have very, very little to be proud of in our lives, or to boast about, but it doesn’t stop us boasting. And we can even think about our Christian experience in a way that asserts our own superiority. Do you see now the point of that heading: “Jesus loves me just a little bit more than he loves you”? When we tell someone about an answered prayer, I wonder if sometimes that’s the coded message we’re sending. Or when we speak of how God is using us in evangelism, or how much He has blessed us in life at the moment. Or when we think of ourselves as the ones who understand the Bible correctly. We may have a look of wide-eyed wonder on our faces at the grace and the mercy and the majesty of God; we may lard our conversation with pious attempts to give all the praise and glory to Him; but inside there can often be a little puffing-up going on.
(b)
If we are puffing up our own glory, then we are detracting from God’s. Remember
one of last week’s illustrations? A floodlight streaming down, and if it’s
going to reflect God’s glory then it can only reflect my weakness. But in
bringing the glory to God we must beware lest any of it starts to creep back to
us. Do you notice that? There are some experiences in the Christian life we
should probably not speak much of, if at all.
(c) But the third reason Paul is so against the boastful spirituality is that it seeks to gain power and authority over others in an illegitimate way. ‘I refrain, so no-one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say’ (v. 6b). Paul did not want to have the wrong sort of personal authority over the Corinthians. We saw this last week in 11:20: ‘In fact, you even put up with anyone who enslaves you or exploits you or takes advantage of you or pushes himself forward or slaps you in the face.’ But Paul had set his stall out quite differently at the beginning of the letter: ‘Not that we lord it over your faith, but we work with you for your joy, because it is by faith you stand firm’ (1:24). There is a power and authority in spiritual matters: but it is God’s power and authority, in His work and by His Spirit. It is not man’s. You may remember the contrast I tried to draw last week between St. Andrew the Great being known as a church where there is “great preaching”, or St. Andrew the Great being known as a church that takes the word of God seriously. I’ve sometimes heard the expression, “The StAG line”, or “What’s the StAG line on this?” I so hope there’s no StAG line on anything (that’s probably too much to hope for). But in every area in this church we are trying to hear and obey the word of God. That is all. Not dominate people’s faith, so they toe a StAG line. If you find somewhere where we are, in your opinion, dominating, and not just trying to help us hear and obey the word of God, please come and tell us. That’s the purpose of the ‘Grill the Preacher’ session that’s going to follow tonight’s service. We must not lord it over the faith of others, either personally or as a church. And to do that we will need to avoid all boasting. A remark like. “The Lord told me this morning …” may well enhance my reputation as a man of God, as a spiritual person; and it will also prove wonderfully coercive in the lives of other people. But that does not make it right. In fact, according to Paul it makes it wrong: ‘Not that we lord it over your faith …’ he says – by the spiritual experiences we could recount.
Well, I’ve already said a little bit about the second paragraph, and now we must consider it more fully: how it summarises the main theme of the letter.
2) Staked by weakness to the Cross (vv. 7-10).
Let’s just read the verses again: ‘To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong’ (vv. 7-10). I called it ‘staked’ to the Cross, because the word translated ‘thorn’ in our Bibles can just as easily mean a stake, on which a victim could be impaled. So it’s probably best not to think of the throbbing irritation of a splinter that has got under our fingernail, but more of something sharp and painful that sticks deep into the flesh, which in Paul’s case, under the will of God, defied extraction, crippling his enjoyment and frustrating his efficiency in ministry, and humbling him before men. It’s a word like our Communion Service this evening, which reminds us immediately of Jesus’ own death for us, where His flesh was impaled on the cross. We have no idea what it was exactly. It may have been an ailment: epilepsy, malaria, migraine. It may have been a relationship. It may have been an enemy. It may have been a speech defect, or a temptation – we haven’t a clue. But it is quite clear what it did. Look at verse 7: ‘To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.’ Actually, in the Greek ‘to keep me from becoming conceited’ comes twice. It comes at the beginning and again at the end: ‘To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me, to keep me from becoming conceited.’ That is why this thorn or stake is related to the revelations he’s just been telling us about (or rather, telling us that he can’t tell us about!). The one had to follow the other. “God could not trust me,” Paul is saying, “with such blessings. So I had to be humbled.”
Those
revelations were puffing Paul up. God was doing great things to Paul. The
exaltation that was coming to Paul through these revelations was
counter-balanced by God, staking Paul to His power, and not to his own pride.
It was because he grew conceited through God’s great blessings on him, that God
had to stake him, to keep him humble and bring him back to the true power of
God, in the Cross. Look at it again, would you? ‘Three times I pleaded with the
Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for
you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” ’ While the thorn
remained, those words remained: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my
power is made perfect in weakness.” So Paul could learn the true secret
of power: it is never ours. Some people, I fear, think that the
Christian life is like this: a powerful God, a weak me, and then an opportunity
for some of God’s power to flow into my life to help me to achieve my goals. Is
that what you are thinking at the moment? – God’s power to help you to cope
with your life? I’m sorry, but Christianity does not promise you that. If you
came to St. Andrew the Great thinking I
just wish I could have a little more of God’s power in my life, to do what I
would love and long to do! There is no promise of that in the Christian
gospel.
And
so gradually God weans us off that self-centred conception of faith, and on to
a different model. God bringing me, weakness and all, into line with His will,
so that all of His power may be in me for His ends (not some of His
power for my ends). It may be revealed in getting me to heaven, even Mark
Ashton – and working out His purposes on this earth through me in the meantime.
The secret of power is that it is never
mine.
How then, as Christians, are we to cope with sufferings in this life? Perhaps there are some here now, many here, who suffer physically (from migraines, or post viral fatigue syndrome, or arthritis, or all sorts of things). Perhaps we suffer from anxiety or depression or some other personality affliction or tendency in us. Perhaps we suffer from disappointing or frustrating circumstances in our lives, perhaps we suffer from relationships or the lack of them. Whatever burdens we carry, let’s just ponder Paul: ‘To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong’ (vv. 7-10).
I don’t know if you have ever healed someone. Or driven an evil spirit out of someone else. I never have. But Paul had. And yet he could not rid himself of this thorn, whatever it was. Is it a surprise then that I have thorns, that I have burdens, that you have burdens in your life? But they have a purpose: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” When the Christian gets up in a morning to face a day (or perhaps a month, a year, a decade) of suffering, he or she must say, “There is a purpose in this. God has allowed it to reach me, the God who has never done me harm. It is for His purpose in my life.” The non-Christian, I guess, has to say “It is for no purpose. It is as meaningless as it is painful.” This is not a complete answer to the problem of pain, but it is something.
In the days of the Scottish Covenanters, back in the 17th Century, a man called Robert Cameron was killed; and the English soldiers cut off his head and his hands, brought them to his father and asked the father, “Do you recognise them?” Robert Cameron’s father replied, “I know them, I know them. They are my son’s, my own dear son’s. It is the Lord. True, it is the will of the Lord, who cannot wrong me or mine, but has made goodness and mercy to follow us all our days.” Amen.