Perhaps one of the most difficult charges a mature Christian leader may face is the double-barreled barb that he lacks credentials and effectiveness while exercising too much authority. The charge, of course, may in some cases be valid; but if not, it’s notoriously difficult to answer.
If a leader replies to the first part of the criticism by listing his credentials and service, his critics may respond by leaning on the second: “Ah, see, didn’t we tell you? He is so arrogant he keeps talking about himself.” If, on the other hand, the leader downplays his significance in order to disprove the charge of arrogance, his critics may always reply, “There’s the problem; he has no real leadership potential.”
Paul’s Situation
Paul is charged with just such a combination, only in his case the array of accusations is even more complex. His letters, his opponents say, are weighty, although in person he amounts to little (2 Cor. 10:10). How then shall Paul respond by letter? If he says little, he won’t be able to tackle the nest of problems; if he says much, his strong letter will be readily dismissed as typical. He’s charged with being an inferior apostle (11:5); but if he lists his credentials, he will find himself boasting on the grounds of unhealthy comparisons between himself and others—a practice he condemns (10:12). He’s accused of not being willing to receive support from the Corinthian church (11:7–8)—and is also charged with surreptitiously diverting funds gathered for Christians in Jerusalem to line his own pockets (see 12:16).
Probably Paul wouldn’t even have bothered to answer these and other charges had not the gospel itself been at stake. The interlopers who were leading the Corinthian church astray weren’t only personally ambitious, they were preaching what Paul discerned to be a false gospel, another Jesus (2 Cor. 11:4). That left Paul no alternative but to enter the fray; and the way he does this, with wisdom, wit, humor, irony, winsomeness, yet also anguish, hurt, and stunning emotional intensity, constitutes a marvelous case study in Christian leadership and the maintenance of Christian values and priorities.
Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Paul faces intruders whose fundamental aim is to call his authority into question, while magnifying their own (2 Cor. 10:7–18). If they succeed in their efforts, they will woo the Corinthians’ allegiance to themselves. Paul, they said, is personally unimpressive and his oratory substandard (v. 10). He could command respect only at a distance (vv. 1–2, 9–11; 11:6; 13:3–4, 9): his letters might be forceful, but they outstrip the credibility of his person and are therefore of little consequence. Paul could thus be charged with acting inconsistently, even capriciously (vv. 2–4; cf. 1:17–18). His problem, they say, is that he lacks proper credentials: He doesn’t even bother to present the appropriate letters of introduction and commendation, presumably from the Twelve (10:13–14; cf. 3:1). He has to rely on self-commendation (10:12–18; 12:11; cf. 5:12; 6:4–10).
Thus Paul finds himself between the proverbial rock and a hard place: he isn’t forceful enough when present, yet if he writes a forceful response, his letter will be easily dismissed as further evidence of the fact that only by long distance mail can he sound like a leader; and even then his words might be dismissed as self-commendation. If instead he shows up in person, he himself is forced to admit that he doesn’t meet the prevalent standards of rhetoric (2 Cor. 11:6), so he may appear hopelessly outclassed by the intruders. Worse, he may be handicapped by his memory of the “painful visit” (2:1), and therefore pull his punches—which would only serve to confirm the judgment of his attackers: “His letters are weighty and forceful, but in person he is unimpressive and his speaking amounts to nothing” (10:10). But if he does nothing, he will certainly lose the Corinthians to the influence of the intruders.
Defending the Gospel
If the entire situation had been nothing more than a personality conflict in which Paul came out worst, it is doubtful that he would have responded as forcefully as he does in his letters to the Corinthians. Paul was painfully aware that the lot of the apostle was to “become the scum of the earth, the refuse of the world” (1 Cor. 4:13). More excruciating, but still expected, was the constant “danger from false brothers” (2 Cor. 11:26).
But this situation was going beyond even that. Not only were the attitudes and values being inculcated by the intruders so deeply pagan, so intrinsically self-centered, that the Corinthians were being warped and twisted away from deep, experiential knowledge of the love and strength of the God whose “power is made perfect in weakness” (12:9), but these self-promoted leaders were actually preaching another Jesus than the one Paul had preached—a different spirit and a different gospel (11:4).
Paul wasn’t reacting merely out of hurt feelings (though doubtless his feelings were hurt), but out of the passionate perception that the gospel itself was at stake—and with it the eternal well-being of the Corinthians. That’s why he can go so far as to say, “Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves.” Where the essence of the gospel is the issue, Paul habitually draws sharp lines of distinction (e.g., Gal. 1:8–9); so it’s not surprising that in this case he exposes the intruders as “false apostles, deceitful workmen, masquerading as apostles of Christ” (11:13).
This is an adapted excerpt from A Model of Christian Maturity: An Exposition of 2 Corinthians 10–13, and is published in partnership with Baker Books.
Is there enough evidence for us to believe the Gospels?
In an age of faith deconstruction and skepticism about the Bible’s authority, it’s common to hear claims that the Gospels are unreliable propaganda. And if the Gospels are shown to be historically unreliable, the whole foundation of Christianity begins to crumble.
