The Terrible Love of a True Father Text: 2 Corinthians 12:11-21
Introduction: The Necessity of Sharp Edges
We live in a soft age. Our Christianity has become squishy, sentimental, and terribly polite. We have confused niceness with love, and we have concluded that any sharp-edged talk, any sarcasm, any hint of confrontation is therefore un-Christlike. And in doing so, we have rendered ourselves incapable of understanding a man like the apostle Paul, and we have left ourselves defenseless against the wolves he spent his life fighting.
In this portion of 2 Corinthians, we find Paul at his most sarcastic, his most ironic, and his most confrontational. He has been backed into a corner by the Corinthian church, a congregation he founded and loved, but which was now being seduced by flashy, eloquent, and greedy charlatans whom Paul acidly calls the "super-apostles." These men were fleecing the flock, questioning Paul's authority, and subtly twisting the gospel. And the Corinthians, spiritual adolescents that they were, were falling for it. They mistook Paul's humility for weakness and the hucksters' arrogance for strength.
So Paul is forced to do something he hates. He is forced to "boast." But he does it as a fool, turning the whole concept on its head. His defense of his apostleship is not an exercise in ego-stroking. It is a pastoral necessity. He must reestablish his authority, not for his own sake, but for theirs. Because if they reject the messenger, they will inevitably reject the message. Paul's concern here is not for his reputation, but for their souls. This is not a personal squabble; it is a theological war for the heart of the church. And in this war, true love does not whisper sweet nothings. True love, the love of a spiritual father, sometimes has to shout, and it sometimes has to wound in order to heal.
The Text
I have become foolish; you yourselves compelled me. For I ought to have been commended by you, for in no respect was I inferior to the most-eminent apostles, even if I am nothing. The signs of a true apostle were worked out among you with all perseverance, by signs and wonders and miracles. For in what respect were you treated as less than the rest of the churches, except that I myself did not become a burden to you? Forgive me this wrong!
Here for this third time I am ready to come to you, and I will not be a burden to you; for I do not seek what is yours, but you. For children ought not to save up for their parents, but parents for their children. So I will most gladly spend and be fully spent for your souls. If I love you more, am I to be loved less? But be that as it may, I did not burden you myself. Nevertheless, crafty fellow that I am, I took you in by deceit. Have I taken advantage of you through any of those whom I have sent to you? I encouraged Titus to go, and I sent the brother with him. Did Titus take any advantage of you? Did we not walk in the same spirit, in the very same steps?
All this time you think we are defending ourselves to you. We speak in Christ in the sight of God. And all these things, beloved, are for your building up. For I am afraid that perhaps when I come I may find you to be not what I wish and may be found by you to be not what you wish; that perhaps there will be strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, slanders, gossip, arrogance, disturbances. I am afraid that when I come again my God may humiliate me before you, and I may mourn over many of those who have sinned in the past and not repented of the impurity, sexual immorality, and sensuality which they have practiced.
(2 Corinthians 12:11-21 LSB)
An Unwilling Boast (vv. 11-13)
Paul begins this section by placing the blame for his "foolish" boasting squarely where it belongs.
"I have become foolish; you yourselves compelled me. For I ought to have been commended by you, for in no respect was I inferior to the most-eminent apostles, even if I am nothing." (2 Corinthians 12:11)
The Corinthians should have been his defense attorneys, but instead they joined the prosecution. They should have been pointing to the fruit of his ministry among them as proof of his legitimacy. Instead, their dalliance with the false teachers forced Paul to state the obvious: that his apostleship was in no way second-rate. But notice the immediate pivot. In the same breath that he asserts his apostolic authority, he confesses his personal nothingness. "Even if I am nothing." This is the essential paradox of Christian ministry. Authority comes from God, not from self. The vessel is clay, but the treasure is Christ. Paul's strength lies precisely in his recognition that, apart from Christ, he is nothing. The super-apostles derived their identity from their credentials; Paul derived his from the cross.
He then provides the evidence. The proof was not in his rhetoric, but in God's power.
"The signs of a true apostle were worked out among you with all perseverance, by signs and wonders and miracles." (2 Corinthians 12:12)
God had authenticated Paul's message with supernatural power. These were not parlor tricks. They were the divine seal on the foundational, apostolic ministry. The Corinthians had seen it with their own eyes. They were without excuse. Paul's perseverance through suffering was itself a sign, and it was accompanied by the overt miracles God performed through him.
Then comes the biting sarcasm, a rhetorical splash of cold water to the face.
"For in what respect were you treated as less than the rest of the churches, except that I myself did not become a burden to you? Forgive me this wrong!" (2 Corinthians 12:13)
The false apostles were charging exorbitant fees for their snake oil. It was a mark of their ministry. Paul, in order not to be a burden and to distinguish his motives from theirs, supported himself. The worldly Corinthians interpreted this act of love as a slight, as though they weren't "worth" charging. Paul's apology here is pure acid. "Pardon me for not taking your money. Forgive me for preaching the gospel to you for free. What a terrible wrong I have done you." He is exposing the absurdity of their value system. They were paying to be deceived and were offended by a gospel that came without a price tag.
The Economics of a Father (vv. 14-18)
Paul continues this theme of financial integrity, but he grounds it in the nature of his relationship with them. He is not a vendor; he is a father.
"Here for this third time I am ready to come to you, and I will not be a burden to you; for I do not seek what is yours, but you. For children ought not to save up for their parents, but parents for their children." (2 Corinthians 12:14)
This is the heart of true pastoral ministry. The hireling seeks the fleece; the shepherd seeks the sheep. The false teacher wants your stuff. The true pastor wants you. He wants your holiness, your growth, your joy. Paul establishes the proper flow of provision. He is their spiritual father, and so he provides for them. He doesn't expect to be provided for by them. This reverses the exploitative model of the super-apostles.
His love for them is not just a sentiment; it is sacrificial and costly.
"So I will most gladly spend and be fully spent for your souls. If I love you more, am I to be loved less?" (2 Corinthians 12:15)
This is the language of utter self-giving. Paul is not just willing to spend his money, but to spend himself, to be poured out like a drink offering for their sake. And then he asks that devastating, poignant question. Their affections were inverted. The more he poured himself out for them, the less they seemed to love him, preferring instead the flatteries of those who were using them. It is a heartbreaking reality that true love is often unrequited, while false love is celebrated.
Paul then anticipates and refutes a slanderous charge with more irony.
"But be that as it may, I did not burden you myself. Nevertheless, crafty fellow that I am, I took you in by deceit." (2 Corinthians 12:16)
He adopts the accusation of his enemies. "Okay, you caught me. I'm a clever one. I didn't take your money directly, but I tricked you some other way." How? By sending Titus to collect the offering for the poor saints in Jerusalem? He then defends his whole team. "Did Titus take any advantage of you? Did we not walk in the same spirit, in the very same steps?" (vv. 17-18). His entire apostolic band operated by the same principles of integrity. There was no secret fund, no crafty scheme. Their lives were an open book. This was a direct challenge to the Corinthians to examine the fruit and finances of the super-apostles with the same scrutiny.
For Your Building Up (vv. 19-21)
Having laid out his defense, Paul now reveals his ultimate motive. This is not about him.
"All this time you think we are defending ourselves to you. We speak in Christ in the sight of God. And all these things, beloved, are for your building up." (2 Corinthians 12:19)
He pulls back the curtain. This entire painful exercise is not self-justification. It is pastoral construction. The Greek is oikodome, the building of a house. Every sharp word, every sarcastic jab, every appeal to his authority has one purpose: to build them up in the faith, to fortify them against error, to make them a holy temple for the Lord. He speaks as one who stands before God, not as one who is trying to win a popularity contest with men.
But this building project is threatened by their sin, and this leads to Paul's great fear.
"For I am afraid that perhaps when I come I may find you to be not what I wish and may be found by you to be not what you wish; that perhaps there will be strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, slanders, gossip, arrogance, disturbances." (2 Corinthians 12:20)
His fear is twofold. He fears he will find them unrepentant. And he fears that, because of their unrepentance, he will have to be the stern disciplinarian they do not wish him to be. The list of sins here is telling. This is not a list of pagan debaucheries from outside the church. This is the rot that grows inside the church. Strife, jealousy, anger, ambition, slander, gossip. These are the sins of the tongue and the heart that tear the body of Christ to pieces. This is what the ministry of the super-apostles was producing.
His fear culminates in a profound and humbling vision of what his visit might entail.
"I am afraid that when I come again my God may humiliate me before you, and I may mourn over many of those who have sinned in the past and not repented of the impurity, sexual immorality, and sensuality which they have practiced." (2 Corinthians 12:21)
This is astonishing. Paul's fear is not that they will be humiliated, but that he will be. Their continued, unrepentant sin would be a shame to him as their spiritual father. It would be a public disgrace, a testimony to his failure to bring them to maturity. His response would not be anger, but mourning. He would have to hold a funeral for those who were spiritually dead, who had tasted the grace of God and yet returned to the pigsty of sexual sin and sensuality. The ultimate tragedy for a pastor is not the presence of sin in his people, for all are sinners. The ultimate tragedy is the absence of repentance.
Conclusion: Love That Confronts
The love of the apostle Paul was not a flimsy, sentimental thing. It was a robust, courageous, and terrible love. It was a father's love, willing to spend and be spent, willing to be misunderstood, and willing to confront sin head-on, not for his own sake, but for the sake of his children.
We are in desperate need of such love today. We need shepherds who love the flock enough to protect them from wolves, even when the flock thinks the wolves are charming. We need pastors who are more concerned with the congregation's holiness than with their own popularity. And we, as a people, need to learn how to receive a rebuke as an act of love. We must ask God for the discernment to distinguish between the hireling who seeks what is ours, and the father who seeks us.
The final issue for the Corinthians, and for us, is the issue of repentance. Paul's great fear was that he would find them unchanged, hardened in their sin. Let that be a holy fear for us as well. The gospel Paul preached is a gospel of repentance. It is a call to turn from our strife, our gossip, our pride, and our lusts, and to turn to Christ. For He is the one who was truly spent for our souls, who loved us when we loved Him least, and whose love is a consuming fire that burns away the dross and builds us up into a house for God.