2 Corinthians 11:1-6 - Homilies By C. Lipscomb

How shall we read this chapter? To read it aright it is certain that we must do more than exercise the understanding on its contents; more than treat it as an argument intended to set forth a definite conclusion; and, especially, more than a defence, on any private grounds, of St. Paul's character and conduct. First of all, a general view of the situation is necessary. In this large, growing, and influential city, a bond of connection between Asia and Europe, a medium through which the most prominent agencies of the day operated over a very broad surface,—in this active and aspiring city a Christian Church had been founded by St. Paul on his first visit. It was an era in his apostleship. Of Greek intellect and habits, he had learned enough at least to give a special bias to his style of preaching. Thrown among a population of Jews, Romans, Greeks, and adventurers from every quarter of the globe, he found a degree of skill and prudence necessary in the management of his work that had not been required in any previous stage of his career. Shrewd money lovers were all around him; he would practise his trade and support himself. Aquila and Priscilla had stood faithfully by his side and cheered his toil. He preached in the synagogue, trouble came, and he transferred his work to the house of Justus. A vision from God assured him of help and protection, and one of its fulfilments occurred when Gallio drove the apostle's persecutors, the turbulent Jews, from "the judgment seat," and, in the subsequent tumult, "cared for none of these things." But it was more than an era in his ministry. It was an epoch in the history of the gospel. There had been something like a repetition of Pentecost. None of the outward symbols, and yet a mighty descent of the Holy Ghost in the number and variety of gifts. If the great Pentecost had been followed by sad lapses in the cases of Ananias and Sapphira, even by lying unto the Holy Ghost whose dispensation had just been inaugurated, could it be wondered at that disorder, misrule, heart burnings, strife, immoralities, had sprung up as tares among the wheat in this luxuriant harvest? It was Corinth out and out. It was the excitable emporium in one of those ferments, good and evil intermixed, which have happened at intervals in the history of the Church. To check the unhealthy excitement, to purify the Church from corruption, to suppress rivalries and animosities between parties, St. Paul had put forth all his wisdom, energy, and fidelity, and, in large measure, had succeeded. At this point, a closer view of the situation becomes necessary. Looking at St. Paul as the apostle to the Gentiles, we see at once the significance of his relation to the Corinthian Church. Humanly speaking, he had fought here his greatest battle and had won a grand victory. Where was there a Church potentially of such promise? Where such an array of brilliant endowments? Where such a manifoldness and plenitude of captivating gifts? Here, in the very city where the Jews had required a sign and the Greeks had sought after wisdom; here, in the very metropolis of Achaia, where learning and culture and Jewish traditions were so strongly entrenched behind wealth and social influence, he had chosen to lay a peculiar and profound stress on "the foolishness of preaching." And the Christ crucified had suddenly revealed himself as the Christ glorified, had refulfilled his promise of the Holy Ghost, and a glorious Pentecostal season had been granted to Corinth. It was the miracle of all the miracles in his career. How personal it was to him as the apostle to the Gentiles is obvious. It was akin to the demonstration made before Jerusalem and her Sanhedrim in behalf of the twelve; and if that event gave St. Peter a commanding attitude at once, only second to that, if indeed second, was this outpouring of the Holy Spirit as an attestation from Christ the Lord of the special ministry of St. Paul. Amid these signs and wonders dissension and bitter strife had appeared at Corinth. Most alarming of all, Judaizers had come from Jerusalem to assail St. Paul's authority and destroy his influence. They had been zealous, unscrupulous, persistent, malignant. At every point they had attacked him, and they had a sufficient following to make the apostle apprehend serious damage. The persecution, he had hoped, was checked if not ended. But it had broken out anew, and that, too, while writing this Second Epistle. It was a severe blow. He was not prepared for it. Could it be possible that his work here was to be undone, or, if not that, to be arrested by these unprincipled adversaries? Corinth was the key to the vast citadel of the West; should he lose it from his hand? It is in the light of these facts that we must read this eleventh chapter. And if we find him making a most vigorous and determined effort to reinstate his authority over the disaffected portion of the Corinthian Church, let us remember that it is not Paul as an individual, but St. Paul as an apostle—the apostle to the Gentiles—who pleaded for a cause far dearer to him than reputation, honour, or life itself. It was not a party, however strong, but the Church he needed in his future work. The opening verse of the chapter indicates his sense of the embarrassing position. "Would that ye could bear with me in a little foolishness, nay indeed bear with me." To commend himself to them by this frequent recital of his labours and sufferings must have been exceedingly painful to one of his sensibility. Only as a duty to his apostleship and to them could he do it, and hence he says, "I am jealous over you with godly jealousy." The figure introduced is expressive of love and purity: "For I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to Christ." But what is the actual state of the Corinthian Church? Is it making ready for presentation as a bride to the Bridegroom when he shall appear in his glory? There is ground for his jealousy: "I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtlety, so your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ." Deception is plainly stated as the danger threatening them—no ordinary danger, for it had an infernal origin, one that had been successful even with Eve in Paradise; and as these new teachers were using just such insidious arts, he warns them lest they fall into the snare. The character to be maintained was virginal purity; the end to be kept in view was that Christ's betrothed Church might be worthy of her Lord at the marriage supper; the peril was the deceitfulness of agents who, under the mask of instructors and authoritative guides, were acting in the interest of Satan; and the enforcement of the warning was the success of the serpent as Satan's instrument in beguiling Eve. If Eve could be deceived in her purity, how great the danger to this chaste virgin! The "subtlety" had lost none of its persuasive arts; thorough the deception then, thorough would it be now, if they hearkened to these false teachers. To supplant the gospel by the Law, to sink the Christian Church in the Jewish Church, to rob him of his disciples and degrade them into the slaves of Pharisaic superstitions already in their dotage,—this was the mercenary aim of these emissaries of Satan. Such they were, as he would presently show. And what were the evidences of imminent danger? If this new preacher come to you preaching another Christ, another Spirit, another gospel, how would you receive him? Would you refuse to hear him? Nay; you would "bear with him," dallying with temptation, blinded, fascinated, opening your hearts to the "subtlety" of the "serpent." On this account he was unhappy. The chaste virgin should listen to no hints of another love. Aside from such conduct, as most evil in itself, what consistency had it with their relation to him as their apostle? He it was who had espoused them to Christ as the Bridegroom, and therefore his jealousy lest they should be "corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ." The passage is very difficult to understand, and we are by no means sure that we have caught the true meaning. But these seem to be the main points, viz.:

1 . St. Paul claims that he has espoused them to Christ, and that he was anxious to present the Church as a chaste virgin to him.

2 . There was great danger of their losing this virginal purity.

3 . If this purity were lost, it would be through the subtlety of Satan acting by means of human agency.

4 . This agency threatened the Corinthians even now, some of whom were inclined to reject his authority and become the disciples of these arrogant and self-sufficient teachers.

5 . His authority was indisputable. "Not a whit" was he "behind the very chiefest apostles," and this had been demonstrated most signally by his apostolic labours in Corinth. "Rude in speech," according to the Grecian standard of rhetoric, but "not in knowledge;" so that if some of the Corinthians went after another preacher with a different Christ and Spirit and gospel, and would "bear with him" and "might well bear," it would be in contempt of him who had been "made thoroughly manifest" among them as "not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles," and that, too, "in all things." "Bear with him," the new teacher, weaning you away from your former love? Then "bear with me a little in my folly: and indeed bear with me." If you accede to his claims who comes to you with such a novel, presumptuous, and overbearing manner, then surely you can tolerate me in the little folly of lowering myself to a comparison with him. I condescend to it for your sakes and for my own. The equal of any apostle, I let myself down to this folly, and "would to God ye could bear with me" in it!—L.

2 Corinthians 11:7-12 - Questions asked and answered.

His enemies had charged that, if he were an apostle, he would have claimed a support from the Corinthians. Instead of that, he had worked at his trade as a tentmaker, and done what he could to gain a livelihood. It had been used against him. Was it, then, beneath the dignity of an apostle to labour with his own hands? What his right was to a maintenance he knew and they knew. But he had waived this right for reasons most satisfactory to himself. Had he committed a sin in this voluntary abasement that they might be exalted by his preaching gratuitously the gospel of God? Was this at variance with his statement that he had been "thoroughly made manifest" among them "in all things," and was not "a whit behind the very chiefest apostles"? In coming to Corinth, and while labouring there, he had "robbed other Churches," and what he lacked in sustaining himself had been supplied from Macedonia. This was done that he might not be "burdensome" unto them. Would his opponents say that he would claim remuneration for the future, or that he was running up a debt against them? Nay; the future shall be as the past. "So will I keep myself." Speaking in accordance with Christ's truth in him, he would avow a fixed determination that this boasting should never be denied him in Achaia. But would they misinterpret this language and accuse him of wanting kind feelings towards them? "God knoweth." To be suspected of such a motive would do him wrong, since he meant it to be a proof of the sincerity and earnestness of his ministry in their behalf. No one should charge him with selfishness; he would be disinterested in all the services rendered to Corinth, that he might "cut off occasion from them" who were always eager to find or make an "occasion" against his apostleship. Had he, then, descended from the ordinary level of the apostolic office, and abased himself, that the Corinthians might be exalted by a special proof of his disinterested love? Further than this, he would protect the Church against these money-loving partisans, who, while standing in a hostile attitude towards him and his work, were looking after their own sordid interest, and intent on making a gain of godliness. "Wherein they glory, they may be found even as we." It was the spiritual intelligence of love. It was the prudence of sanctified worldly experience; and the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness of the dove were never more happily blended.—L.

2 Corinthians 11:13-15 - Character of these teachers.

Indications of a marked change in the apostle respecting these intruders at Corinth appear in the tenth chapter. Recent circumstances had aroused his attention to their acrid and persistent hostility as directed against him and the spiritual welfare of the Church. From the first he had not misjudged them. Under all their specious arts he had detected a low and carnal spirit, calculated to affect these volatile Corinthians and obstruct the progress of his ministry. Meantime they had increased in boldness and audacity, and assailed him with more impetuous virulence. Evidently, then, there was a growth in his convictions as to their mischief-making power, and of late these convictions had become very strong. The growth is apparent both in his thought and feeling, and in such a mind as St. Paul's it could not be long in reaching his will and shaping itself in a resolute purpose to put down the evil. So long as it was mainly a personal vexation, he had borne it patiently; but the hour had come when, while true to "the meekness and gentleness of Christ," he must show "the rod." Very clearly is the military attitude of his mind exhibited in the previous chapter, he speaks of "weapons," of their might to overthrow "strongholds" and "cast down imaginations," and of his readiness at the proper moment "to revenge all disobedience." This deepening intensity finds utterance in the paragraph now under consideration. Unable to repress his feelings any longer, he gives them expression in the most forcible form his language could assume as it regarded the religious pretensions of these men. They are "false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves [by their own act] into the apostles of Christ." Looking at the matter from St. Paul's point of view, nothing worse could be said of them. What his description involved quickly appears. "No marvel;" how could there be any room for surprise? It was characteristic of him, the great adversary, to send just such "apostles;" for "Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light." Perfectly natural; sender and sent are one; and the union is seen in the transforming power. No great thing if "his ministers" should so fashion themselves as to seem "ministers of righteousness." And having stated who and what they were, he announces their future doom: "whose end shall be according to their works." We see now why he mentioned his fear in the opening of the chapter, and referred to Eve as led into sin by the subtlety of the serpent, and we see also why he spoke of their bearing with these hypocrites. Hitherto some of the Church had been deceived by the plausible devices of these persons. But he had opened their eyes to the danger, and, if they continued to listen to these ministers of Satan, they themselves would be willing dupes and participants in their guilt "whose end shall be according to their works." The passage has a deep spiritual meaning. It shows us the great power of Satan in adapting himself to circumstances and using means suited to times and occasions. It shows him versatile, adroit, untiring in inventiveness as well as in energy, and able to impart to others this transforming or fashioning power which he pre-eminently possesses. Not only does the Pauline theology recognize the inherency of sin in our nature, but in addition thereunto it recognizes a mighty agent who employs the utmost skill and a prodigious strength of will and passion to call out and direct this indwelling evil. And it shows this Satanic agency working in the Church, and even counterfeiting the apostleship. The passage is full and explicit. Its force cannot be evaporated in rhetoric; its truth is the sternest reality in most earnest speech. A critical occasion had arisen, one of momentous interest in the history of Christianity, one that presented a turning point in St. Paul's career, and he met this occasion by exposing the diabolical source of their conduct. From his course of action we may learn a very useful lesson. His way of dealing with. sin looked to a personal agent beyond the sinner—one with the sinner and yet distinct and separate, and this agent exerting his tremendous ability in exciting all the latency of evil as unconscious to the sinner, and with it all his conscious susceptibility, so as to accomplish his eternal ruin. Too often with us this Satanic power in men is not duly estimated. In trying to save men, we should remember from whom we are delivering them, and what an awful hold Satan's tyranny has upon their souls. As a practical fact, this is a matter of vast importance. And, accordingly, we find the Lord Jesus impressing on the apostles that the Holy Ghost was not only to convince the world of "sin" and of "righteousness," but also of "judgment"—"because the prince of this world is judged." How else, indeed, could the work of conviction be consummated? Precisely here the Spirit perfects his gracious office as the Divine Convincer; and precisely here we must labour with all diligence and prayerfulness in order to convince men that they are by nature the subjects of this prince, and that only Christ, who has "judged" him, can deliver them from his bondage. No closeness of contact with man as mere man will meet the requirements of the case. It is man, the servant of sin because the slave of the devil, with whom the preacher of the gospel has to do, and unless he realize as far as may be the fearful import of Christ's words, "Ye are of your father the devil," it is not likely he will cooperate with the Holy Ghost in bringing men to that depth and thoroughness of repentance which go tar to determine the stability and worth of future Christian character. Depend upon it, our danger at this point is real and serious. What is the human nature with which we are struggling in the daily endeavours of thought and in special sabbath efforts, praying, wrestling, agonizing, that it may be rescued from unbelief and restored to its Father? Inspiration is never content to portray it as merely far gone from original righteousness, dead in trespasses and sins, but the very phraseology takes its deepest import from ideas and images originally associated with Satan. If detached from Satan, such terms as "subtlety," "blindness," "deceitfulness," "bewitched," "craftiness," "beguiled,'' "wiles," "snares," "captivity," "bondage," would lose the peculiar force which always accompanies them in the Scriptures. And with this use of language the spirit of the New Testament accords when its writers are setting forth human depravity in its special relations to Christ's mediatorial work. Is Judas about to negotiate for the betrayal of Jesus of Nazareth? "Satan entered into him." Is St. Peter over confident, proud of his devotion to Jesus, full of daring? "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat." St. John: "he that committeth sin is of the devil." St. Peter: "Your adversary, the devil." St. James: "Resist the devil." St. Paul: "Recover themselves out of the snare of the devil." Surely, then, this uniform tenor of scriptural language, coupled with Christ's most emphatic declaration as to man's incapacity to see Satanic agency in its true light except through the convicting office of the Holy Ghost; surely, we say, this should impress us very deeply as to the urgent need of making prominent in our preaching and teaching the fact of Satan's enormous power over the human soul. Time was when this truth was felt far more profoundly than now, or at least when it filled a much larger space in pulpit thought and Christian literature. And the fruits of it appeared everywhere, not only in a higher order of religious sentiment, but in the amenability of folly and vice to that moral fear which no community can afford to lose. Wickedness abounded then, as now, and yet wickedness was open to the probing of its conscience and to the disturbance of its sensibilities, nor did it commonly have the complacent hardness and the defiant attitude towards the solemn hereafter which it now wears as its familiar aspect. Communities had convictions then on moral and religious subjects, but only sections of communities (speaking generally) have such convictions now. Men of convictions were sure of an audience. Savonarola could not but be heard. Luther had an intense realization of an evil spirit; less of it would have made him less of a reformer. Milton and Bunyan, the two names that Englishmen would choose as the finest representatives of English genius and manhood in the literary spheres they filled, wrote as men who realized that Satan was something more in the affairs of the world than a subject for artistic treatment. We have come to the closing quarter of the nineteenth century, and within the century the land of Luther has given us 'Faust' with Mephistopheles, and the England of Milton and Bunyan has gives us 'Festus' with Lucifer. Insensibly to itself, the pulpit has caught the effeminate spirit of the age, and it discusses sin much more than it grapples with Satan in sin. "For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil." If the most tender and loving soul among inspired thinkers could lay such an emphasis on this truth, assuredly there is a way for this doctrine to be strenuously preached, free from every taint of extravagance and morbid imagination. Depend upon it, when we throw this doctrine into the background of set purpose, or when we let it lapse from our grasp by casual infirmity, we have nothing left but a fragmentary Christ and a depleted ethical Christianity.—L.

2 Corinthians 11:16-20 - Comparison of himself with his opponents.

The weapons of his warfare were not carnal, and yet he must use, under protest and with undissembled humiliation, the weapons of his enemies. Boasting was their favourite art. Would they think him a fool? Let him not be so considered. If, however, they would regard him in this light, nevertheless he must "boast a little." Only he would pray to be heard by the Corinthians, but, at the same time, he wished it understood that he was speaking as a man, not as an apostle. "That which I speak, I speak it not after the Lord, but as it were foolishly, in this confidence of boasting." St. Paul is careful to state when he speaks from his own mind, and he is equally concerned to let his readers know that, if others boasted from mean and selfish motives, he boasted in a very different spirit from theirs. "Many glory after the flesh," referring to his adversaries, and "I will glory also," but not as they do. "After the Lord" and "after the flesh" are contrasted, and yet in doing this (boasting), if he imitated the manner of these "false apostles, deceitful workers," there was nothing false or deceitful in his conduct. What he boasted of was matter of fact; and then he remarks, continuing the ironical vein in which he had been arguing, that the Corinthians were well able to bear with his foolishness, since they suffered fools gladly, seeing that they were wise . "Wise," verily. Then he cites what they had endured from these new teachers. Where was their freedom? They had been brought into "bondage"—moral and ecclesiastical: submission to tyrannical rulers. Where was their self protection against imposition and craftiness, their discernment of men and motives? They had been taken in, captured, devoured, by these designing men. Where was their self-respect? These "fools," whom they suffered "gladly," had exalted themselves and humiliated a Church abounding in special endowments. Where, finally, was their manliness? They had borne insolence, personal ill treatment—had been smitten on the face . Such was his arraignment of these "false apostles," such his indictment of those Corinthians who had allowed themselves to be dominated by these insulting pretenders. Such, too, was the background for a vivid picture now to be sketched.—L.

2 Corinthians 11:21-33 - What St. Paul was and what he had suffered as an apostle of Christ.

If, indeed, the standard of strength which the deceiving ministers of Satan had set up among them were a correct one, then he must say that he had been weak in his intercourse with them on his visit to Corinth. He had not abused them as slaves, nor been avaricious, nor offered them insults. Yes; he must admit that they were strong and he weak, they wise and he foolish, and he confesses the shame he felt. The sharp irony is now dropped, and he proceeds to show what reasons he had for genuine boasting. If he had to vindicate his claims against these men who had transformed themselves into "ministers of righteousness," it was extremely abasing, but he would be bold (boastful), since there was no escape from the painful task. And, as we shall see, he would do it with great deliberation, item by item, the points clearly made, and only such points as were capable of easy verification.

I. AS TO NATIONALITY . These Judaizers, seeking to prop up a sinking theocracy by means of a perverted Christianity, and putting a most inordinate and carnal estimate on their prerogatives as members of an elect race, had made on this score a very earnest appeal to the Corinthians, and especially to the converted Jews. "Are they Hebrews?" By this general race title the chosen people had been early known, and it was still in vogue. If they are Hebrews, St. Paul says, "so am I." Again, "Are they Israelites?" That name was derived from Israel, the name given to Jacob after wrestling with the angel at Peniel, and designated, originally, the union of the tribes as one community under Jehovah's rule, and set apart to bear witness against all idolatry. "Israelite" carried in its import a reference to the nation as representative of the Divine unity, and was, therefore, distinctively religious. St. Paul responds again, "So am I." Finally, as to nationality. "Are they the seed of Abraham? so am I." One by one the honourable distinctions are mentioned, closing with the highest—a son of Abraham, and in them he claims equality with these pretentious teachers. There was an evident reason for this mode of procedure. No one suspected his devotion to the Gentiles and his zeal in behalf of the apostleship of the uncircumcision. But there were prejudices, strong and bitter, against him on his supposed want of fealty to his nation, and hence his anxiety to show on all occasions that he prized his blood and loved his people. We see from our standpoint that he was an ideal Jew, the truest and most sagacious Jew of his age; and yet it was a memorable part of his discipline, anti a main factor in his fortunes, to be subjected to all sorts of vexations and persecutions on the ground of disloyalty to his nation. Other uses he subsequently made of these and similar facts, giving them an enlarged application ( Philippians 3:1-21 .), and directing them with exclusive intent to objects then engaging his thought; but, at present, he only individualizes far enough to prove that the "false apostles" had no advantage over him as to national ties.

II. AS TO THE MINISTRY OF THE LORD JESUS . Do these men claim to be Christ's ministers? Whatever they might assume to be in this regard, he (speaking as one beside himself) "was more." And what evidence shall he give of the fact that he was more? Shall he point to his wonderful successes? "He proceeds to mention, as the reason for his pre-eminence, no illustrious achievements or wonderful results he had accomplished, but difficulties, troubles, conflicts, perils" (Kling). Could more be condensed in the same number of words than he compresses in one short verse? The "more" means "in labours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." But he will furnish particular illustrations of the statement just made. His own countrymen head the list, for "of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one," thrice was he "beaten with rods," once stoned, thrice ship wrecked, "a night and a day in the deep." Yet this is only a partial account, and he offers other instances of his superior devotion as a minister of Christ. There were his frequent journeys, and what a history of perils!—perils of waters, perils of robbers, perils by his own countrymen, perils by the heathen, perils in the city, perils in the wilderness, perils in the sea; did not this enumeration exhaust the sad experience? Nay; one pictures him pausing at this point and falling into a mood. of most touching reflection. To one who loved the name of brother in Christ as he did, who recalled how Ananias had come to him at Damascus and addressed him as "Brother Saul," and who remembered how often it had cheered him to be recognized and honoured as a brother in the ministry, what could be more oppressive to his spirit than to write at the last, "perils among false brethren " ? Thus closes the account of perils. Have his sorrows all been catalogued? The outward sufferings have been generalized in classes of peril and in forms of physical torture. Enough has been said to make good his claim to pre-eminence in affliction for the cause of Christ. Outside of the duties he was discharging as the Lord's servant, not one of these evils had befallen him. It was the cross of Christ, and only the cross, which had brought all these upon him. But he had more to say. A man of feeble health, of acute nervous sensibility, struggling with disease and infirmity; who among us can enter into all he meant by "weariness and painfulness, watchings often, hunger and thirst, lastings often, cold and nakedness''? It is only a rude outline; imagine the details. But what were details to him? The rapid summation shows why he writes. Artistic effect offers him no temptation. Literary motives are impossible to his imagination and tastes. The eagerness of his spirit, approaching a topic most dear to his soul, hurries him to "the care of all the Churches." Ah! that was something transcendent. Daily it came upon him amidst weariness, painfulness, and other ills, and daily it came as a crowd pressing upon him with anxieties beyond utterance. Sympathy is incapable of complete expression. It cannot make itself known. It can only make itself felt, and therefore contents itself with hints. "Who is weak," sympathy asks, "and I am not weak?" And who is overcome by temptation (made to stumble), and I burn not? The sympathetic man is now deeply moved, and his heart breaks forth, "If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things which concern mine infirmities [my weakness]."

III. THE TRUE NATURE OF HIS BOASTING . Examine this fragment of St. Paul's biography, and what do you find as the shaping thought? It is the idea of suffering as expressive of human infirmity. Suffering for a moral purpose is continually kept before the mind, and, agreeably to that end, it is suffering that not only humbles its subject in a spiritual point of view, but humiliates him in the eyes of the world. Hence the conclusion to which he brings the mournful narration, "If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things which concern my weakness." No doubt it seemed very strange to many that he should boast of these things, but this was its justification. Had it not appeared as "folly," it would not have vindicated him against the malicious taunts of his adversaries; for it is exactly such a "folly" as identifies his life and experience with the "foolishness" of the gospel, the preaching of Christ crucified, on which, at the outset, he had laid a very distinctive stress. Boast he must to meet the low state of intellect and spirituality in those of the Church who had fallen under the influence of these self-aggrandizing "apostles." Boast he would in defence of himself, of his motives and intentions. Yet, while stooping to such a worldly method, he would do so in no carnal spirit, but as one who had a profound sense of his own unworthiness. What did the Jewish world think of his apostleship? Let the five times "forty stripes save one" answer. What did the Roman world think of it? The thrice "beaten with rods" was the reply. No allusion is made to his having been a "blasphemer" and "persecutor," for this had no bearing on the question at issue. It is a contrast throughout of himself with the "deceitful workers." And, finally, to make the contrast as perfect as possible, he refers to "the care of all the Churches" among the Gentiles. This point reached, he shows why he had made these concessions to the folly of certain Corinthians, and his true heart exclaims, "If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things which concern my weakness." Here, then, we have the first distinct appearance of one among those great thoughts that we find frequently in various forms in his subsequent writings— the idea of glorying in his infirmities . Not enough is it for him to accept it as a burden and tolerate it as a thing providentially ordained to be borne. From this hour he enters on a higher experience, for he has learned to cherish a sentiment as well as find a duty and a principle in his infirmities. He will welcome them, he will press them to his heart as a treasure, he will "glory" in them. And if, hereafter, we shall often listen to his exultation when he rejoices in tribulation and glories in the cross, we can revert to the time and circumstances that first made this experience an era in his career. No wonder that he appeals with such solemnity to God for the truths asserted. It is a moment of impassioned thought which brings the past most vividly before his eye, and lo! the opening scene in a long series of afflictions for the gospel. There it was—the far-off Syrian city of the Damascenes, and the beginning of that persecution which the Jews had continued so unrelentingly. And there, too, it had been announced to Ananias in a vision that the Lord had made Saul of Tarsus "a chosen vessel" unto himself, and would show him "how great things he must suffer." Straightway the revelation of sorrow began, for the stay at Damascus was interrupted by a conspiracy of the Jews, and he sought refuge in Arabia. All the intervening years had been years of suffering, the first link of the unbroken chain forged by the hatred of the Jews at Damascus, the last up to this period forged by the same hands at Corinth, and the issue of his experience was that he had learned to glory in his weakness.—L.