The Reluctant Boaster Text: 2 Corinthians 12:1-6
Introduction: The War on Resumes
We live in an age that is obsessed with credentials. We want to see the resume, the list of accomplishments, the educational pedigree, the five-star reviews. We measure a man's worth by his press clippings. The church in Corinth was no different; they were a thoroughly modern people in that respect. They had been infiltrated by a group of men Paul sarcastically calls the "super-apostles." These men were slick. They were polished. They had letters of recommendation, they spoke with impressive rhetorical flourish, and they likely had a string of ecstatic experiences they were more than happy to talk about. They were peddling a gospel of glamor, a theology of triumph, and they were using it to undermine Paul's authority and, by extension, the true gospel.
Paul's response throughout this letter has been to turn their entire value system on its head. They boast in strength; Paul boasts in weakness. They boast in eloquence; Paul boasts in simple proclamation. They boast in their resumes; Paul boasts in his scars. Now, in chapter 12, he is backed into a corner. To defend the gospel, he must engage them on their own turf, the turf of "visions and revelations." But he does so in the most Pauline way imaginable. He does it reluctantly, awkwardly, and in the third person, as if describing someone else. He will show them that if they want to play the game of spiritual resumes, his is far more impressive than theirs. But then he will immediately throw that resume in the fire and point them back to the only thing that matters: the power of Christ made perfect in human weakness.
This passage is a master class in apostolic humility and holy irony. Paul must boast to shut down the foolish boasting of his opponents. He must reveal the heights of his spiritual experience only to show that the true measure of a man is not found in such experiences, but in his faithful endurance through weakness and suffering. He is fighting a war on resumes, and his chief weapon is the cross.
The Text
It is necessary to boast, though it is not profitable, but I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago, whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows, such a man was caught up to the third heaven. And I know how such a man, whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, God knows, was caught up into Paradise and heard inexpressible words, which a man is not permitted to speak. On behalf of such a man I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except in weaknesses. For if I do wish to boast I will not be foolish, for I will be speaking the truth; but I refrain from this, so that no one will consider me beyond what he sees in me or hears from me.
(2 Corinthians 12:1-6 LSB)
Necessary Folly (v. 1)
We begin with Paul's reluctant entry into this contest.
"It is necessary to boast, though it is not profitable, but I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord." (2 Corinthians 12:1)
Paul begins by stating the paradoxical nature of what he is about to do. It is "necessary" but not "profitable." Why is it necessary? It is necessary for the sake of the Corinthians. They are being led astray by charlatans who measure spiritual authority by worldly standards. To rescue them, Paul must demonstrate that even by their own fleshly standards, he is more than qualified. He has to enter the fool's contest to expose the foolishness of the contestants. It is a strategic necessity, a pastoral intervention.
But it is not profitable. Boasting in oneself, even in genuine spiritual experiences, does not build up the soul. It puffs up. It distracts from the cross. It puts the focus on the servant rather than the Master. Paul understands that the whole enterprise is spiritually dangerous. He is handling radioactive material, and he knows it. This is not the normal Christian life. The normal Christian life is to boast in the Lord (1 Cor. 1:31), not in revelations from the Lord. But because the Corinthians have been bewitched by the resume-polishers, Paul must stoop to conquer.
The Man in the Third Heaven (v. 2-4)
Paul now presents his credentials, but he does so with a striking detachment.
"I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago, whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows, such a man was caught up to the third heaven. And I know how such a man, whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, God knows, was caught up into Paradise and heard inexpressible words, which a man is not permitted to speak." (2 Corinthians 12:2-4)
First, notice the third-person reference: "I know a man in Christ." Of course, this man is Paul. The chronology fits, placing this event around A.D. 42, early in his Christian life, before his first missionary journey. So why the strange, indirect language? Paul is rhetorically separating himself from the experience. He is saying, in effect, "Let's talk about the resume of this fellow. This isn't about me, Paul, the guy you see day-to-day. This is about an experience that happened to a man in Christ." This is a brilliant move. It allows him to present the mind-boggling credential without owning the pride that usually comes with it. He is boasting about "third-person me" in order to protect "first-person me" from the spiritual poison of pride.
Second, notice his agnosticism about the details: "whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows." This is a direct rebuke to the super-apostles and to all who are overly fascinated with the mechanics of spiritual phenomena. The super-apostles likely had detailed, elaborate stories. Paul, who had the genuine article, is completely unconcerned with the "how." He was so overwhelmed by the reality of where he was that the mode of transport was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that he was there. God knows the details, and that is sufficient. This humility stands in stark contrast to the spiritual show-offs who always seem to have a tidy explanation for everything.
Third, notice the destination. He was "caught up to the third heaven" and "into Paradise." In Jewish thought, the first heaven was the atmosphere, the second was the starry space, and the third was the dwelling place of God Himself. Paradise is a term for the garden of God, the place of blissful, unmediated communion with the Almighty. Paul was taken into the very throne room of the universe. This single experience eclipses any and every claim his opponents could possibly muster. He has the ultimate trump card.
And what did he learn there? He "heard inexpressible words, which a man is not permitted to speak." This is the knockout blow. The false apostles were full of words, peddling their secret knowledge and spiritual insights. Paul, having been to the very source, is forbidden to speak of what he heard. The experience was too holy, too glorious for human language. It was not a commodity to be marketed. It was a sacred trust to be kept. True spiritual authority is not marked by a glib familiarity with divine things, but by a holy reticence, a reverent silence born of having actually seen the consuming fire of God's presence.
A Tale of Two Boasts (v. 5)
Now Paul draws the crucial distinction, the pivot upon which the whole argument turns.
"On behalf of such a man I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except in weaknesses." (2 Corinthians 12:5)
Here is the heart of the matter. Paul is willing to boast about the man who had the vision. He will lay that resume on the table and say, "There. Match that." Why? To defend the gospel he preaches. The gospel did not come from a second-rate apostle. It came from a man who had been commissioned by the risen Christ and had been given an extraordinary glimpse into the heavenly court. He will boast in the office and the commission.
But when it comes to himself, "on my own behalf," the story changes entirely. The only thing he will put on his personal resume is the long list of his weaknesses. Shipwrecks, beatings, imprisonments, hunger, betrayal, and the "thorn in the flesh" he will mention shortly. This is the great paradox of Christian ministry. The authority comes from heaven, but it is displayed on earth through suffering. God's power is entrusted to cracked clay pots. The glory of the vision is authenticated by the humility of the vessel.
Grounded in Reality (v. 6)
Paul concludes this section by explaining why he refrains from this kind of talk, grounding his authority not in mystical experiences but in his observable life.
"For if I do wish to boast I will not be foolish, for I will be speaking the truth; but I refrain from this, so that no one will consider me beyond what he sees in me or hears from me." (2 Genesis 12:6 LSB)
Paul wants to be clear. If he were to continue boasting about this vision, it would not be "foolish" in the sense of being untrue. He would be "speaking the truth." This is not an imaginary trip. This is a factual report. But he refrains. He pulls back. Why?
The reason is profoundly pastoral and serves as a devastating critique of his opponents. He doesn't want the Corinthians' faith to rest on something they cannot verify. He wants them to judge him based on the evidence of their own eyes and ears: "what he sees in me or hears from me." He is telling them to measure his apostleship by his character, his conduct, his perseverance in suffering, and the content of his teaching. These are the tangible proofs of a genuine work of God.
This is a call for empirical Christianity. Don't trust the man who tells you unverifiable stories about his spiritual prowess in another city. Trust the man whose life and doctrine you can examine up close. The super-apostles wanted the Corinthians to be impressed by their spiritual resumes. Paul wanted them to be impressed by the grace of God at work in his very unimpressive, suffering-filled life. True authority is not a matter of a secret resume; it is a matter of a public life.
Conclusion: The Currency of Heaven
What Paul does here is recalibrate our entire understanding of spiritual value. The world, and the false apostles who loved the world, dealt in the currency of strength, honor, and impressive experiences. Paul shows us that the currency of heaven is weakness. The power of Christ does not rest on the self-sufficient, the polished, or the proud. It rests on the humble, the broken, the one who has nothing to offer but his own inadequacy.
The vision of Paradise was a gift to Paul, but it was not his credential for ministry. His credential was his weakness, because it was in that weakness that the all-sufficiency of Christ's grace was most clearly displayed. The Corinthians were tempted to follow men who looked strong. Paul calls them to follow him as he follows a crucified Messiah.
And so it is for us. We are tempted to build our lives and our churches on programs, on metrics of success, on dynamic personalities, on anything that looks impressive to the world. But God's method has not changed. He still chooses the foolish things to shame the wise, and the weak things to shame the strong. Our confidence must not be in our spiritual highs, our victories, or our gifts. Our only boast, our only confidence, must be in the cross of Jesus Christ, through whom the power of God is made perfect in our weakness.