2 Corinthians 12:2–10

One cannot engage this passage without acknowledging the reality of human suffering. Before this pericope in 2 Cor 11:23–28, the apostle Paul addresses many of his struggles, which leads to this section (12:2–10). He speaks of “weaknesses, insults, hardships, and persecutions, and calamities,” but even more intriguing, and perhaps more disturbing, are his declarations in the current unit: “a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated” (12:7). Paul has a thorn in the flesh. It is what keeps him weak. Many people have speculated what this thorn might be: physical or mental illness, spiritual trials, persecution, opposition, or being single; but we are not told what the exact nature of this “thorn” is.

As we consider this text for preaching, we might prioritize closing the gap between the ancient text and our lives. By not knowing what exactly Paul’s affliction is, we are unable to distance ourselves from Paul’s suffering. If we knew what it was specifically, it might not be our exact pain. Thus, while we might be prone to look away and ignore it since it is not precisely what we endure, we cannot turn away that easily. Because all he says is a “thorn,” this language can function as a homiletical metaphor for the human condition.

The image and idea of a “thorn” can be representative of multifaceted human suffering. All human beings have thorns to deal with in their lives. What is significant for homiletical purposes is not the nature of the thorn per se but the fact that there is a thorn present. A thorn metaphor opens up numerous pathways for listeners to imagine and reflect on their own thorn in the flesh that hurts, disturbs, nags, and irritates, seemingly without an end in sight. We do not necessarily know why or how we get thorns. We just know that they are there. For Paul, the thorn was “a messenger of Satan,” and he believed it was given to keep him humble, “to keep me from being too elated,” so that he would not take credit for or boast in his spiritual powers or the “exceptional character of the revelations” (v. 7).

This raises another issue related to suffering. Suffering is present in various forms, and we all experience thorns in some fashion. But Paul apparently sees a rationale for his suffering. Does suffering have a theological purpose? Can it be redemptive? For Paul, the thorn kept him humble and prevented him from boasting, except in his weaknesses. He saw his suffering as having a good or profitable purpose. This provides a theological challenge when we consider the varied manifestations of human suffering and wonder what good can come out of them. Although Paul seemingly saw a purpose in his thorn in the flesh, it did not mean that he enjoyed it.

Paul asked the Lord “three times” to remove his thorn in order to stop the torment (v. 8). But God did not remove his suffering. God does not relieve Paul, which is a stark contrast to the smiling, pain-free, prosperity gospel theology of today. Sermons on this passage can explore a theology of suffering, including whether there is a purpose to human suffering because the thorn in the flesh remains, and Paul remains “weak.”

One can wrestle with this aspect of the human condition before God, especially when there is no sign that our suffering will end. There is no timeline to the life expectancy of the thorn. God is present, and so is the thorn. Rhetorically and existentially, preachers may ask (like the psalmist), “How long?” How long shall we endure suffering? It is necessary and good to wrestle out loud with this question, whatever the thorn might be, as the flood of unanswered prayers fills so many sanctuaries of the faithful in the face of unwanted suffering and pain. Voicing this question gives permission for many who might feel that questioning God is taboo or even sinful.

Although God does not remove Paul’s thorn and answer in the way Paul desired, God does give Paul a response: “my grace is sufficient for you, for (my) power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). In an ironic way, with the thorn, there is a rose. God tells Paul that divine power is perfected or completed in weakness. God’s power accomplishes its goal when we are weak. This is a paradox, and paradoxes can seem absurd, even if they are true. God is at God’s best when we are weak.

Therefore, Paul finds strength amid his weakness: “I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me” (v. 9). Therefore, it makes sense why Paul, right before this pericope, boasts in his weaknesses—imprisonments, floggings, lashes, beatings with rods, being stoned, being shipwrecked, being in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from his own people, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters, and sleepless nights. He was hungry, thirsty, cold, naked, and anxious (11:23–28). Paul believes that he receives divine empowerment because he claims his human frailty, suggesting that the Christian way is the way of weakness. The goal of the Christian life is to become weaker, not stronger, because God works with us when we are weak and needy. In other words, God tabernacles in weakness. ¹

If we boast in our own power, we deny God’s power. But if we acknowledge our weakness, we will see God’s wonder-working strength. God gives Paul strength when he is weak for “whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” This paradox of weakness can be explored in a sermon that points to other Christian paradoxes throughout Scripture—the last will be first, to live you have to die, to ascend you have to descend, Jesus is both divine and human, and more.

The paradoxical nature of the Christian life is truly a mystery to be noted and pondered, just as the purpose of human suffering and weakness in discipleship may also appear mysterious and even unclear. But Paul is certain that “God knows,” even if he says, “I do not know.” Twice, he juxtaposes human incomprehension with divine comprehension—“I do not know; God knows” (12:3). Paul sets human unknowability against divine knowability. In this way, he offers a path toward and an affirmation of a spirituality of incomprehensibility or unknowing. This kind of spirituality and understanding of weakness stands in stark contrast to the certainty espoused in so many expressions of Christian faith today. Paul does not totally understand his visions, which prompts his truthful and honest statement, “God knows.” Paul affirms human frailty in the face of God’s sovereignty, which leads to his boasting, not in his strength, but in God’s undeniable power. His situation may not be exactly our own, but if we slow down and watch our lives closely, it is highly likely that we are experiencing a life circumstance for which we can say nothing else but “God knows.”