c. Appeal and Exhortation (4:14–21)

c. Appeal and Exhortation (4:14–21)

1Brothers and sisters, I could not address you as people who live by the Spirit but as people who are still worldly—mere infants in Christ. 2I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. 3You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans? 4For when one says, “I follow Paul,” another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not acting like mere humans?

The argument that began as a directive against quarrels and division (1:10–13) appears at first glance to have gone astray in what followed (1:17–2:16). As was noted, however, the long discussion of wisdom and the cross is not a digression, but almost certainly the real issue for Paul. To be sure, the church is indeed at stake, but even more so is the gospel itself. The wisdom that they are now pursuing strips the gospel of both its intent and its power; at the same time, their very pursuit of it has led to the divisions among them. With this paragraph, therefore, Paul makes the transition from the one argument (over the nature of the gospel and the meaning of true “wisdom”) to the other (about division in the name of their leaders). The transition itself is marked by the twin clauses in the second sentence (v. 2): “You were not yet ready. . . . Indeed, you are still not ready.”

But this paragraph is far more than simply a transition. It certainly functions that way; but in its own right it is fully part of the argument itself. Two concerns are driving the apostle, both noted in the title given to this section: “On Having the Spirit and Being Divided.” These, of course, for Paul are mutually exclusive options. The problem is that the Corinthians think of themselves as the one—pneumatikoi [= “people of the Spirit”]—while in fact they are the other—“divided.” Thus Paul does two things, which flow directly out of what has preceded (2:6–16) and at the same time lead into what follows (3:5–17).

First, picking up the theme of being “Spiritual” from what has just preceded, Paul makes a frontal attack and pronounces the Corinthians as not pneumatikoi (Spirit people) at all. Indeed, not only are they not living as people of the Spirit, they are just the opposite; they are “fleshly”—still thinking like mere human beings, those who do not have the Spirit. With this charge Paul exposed himself to centuries of misunderstanding. But his concern is singular: not to suggest classes of Christians or grades of spirituality, but to get the Corinthian believers to stop thinking like the people of this present age, who are governed by concerns that lie outside God’s kingdom. As people of the Spirit, such thinking is no longer an option.

Second, he wants them to stop behaving like the people of the present age, which is the point at hand. In the present argument, therefore, their quarrels become Exhibit A of the charge in the opening sentences (vv. 1 and 2). Their behavior is that of “mere humans.” Is it not true, then, that they are not “Spiritual” (= people of the Spirit) but “fleshly”? Being “human,” of course, is not an issue, but behaving in a way similar to most other humans decidedly is an issue for people transformed by the Spirit.

Paul, of course, does not mean to say they do not have the Spirit. They do; and that’s the problem, because they are thinking and behaving otherwise. The argument has considerable bite, therefore, because his ultimate point is: “Stop it! People of the Spirit simply must stop behaving the way you are.”

1–2a Returning once more to the first person singular, and using the common connective “and” (= “and I” [cf. 2:1]) and accompanying vocative, Paul proceeds to a direct application of what has immediately preceded (2:6–16) to the Corinthian situation. “We who have received the Spirit do indeed have the mind of Christ and understand the wisdom of the folly of God. And I, for my part, brothers and sisters, was not able to address you as pneumatikoi (‘spiritual’ = people of the Spirit).” The use of the vocative (“brothers and sisters”) and the second person plural pronouns throughout make it clear that he is not addressing a faction within the congregation, but the church as a whole. Not all may be guilty, but all are defiled by the actions of the many. Also, the use of the aorist in these clauses (“I could not . . . because you could not”) with the corresponding change to the present in the next sentence (v. 2b) indicates that he is still, as at the beginning (1:18–2:5), reflecting on his former time with them. This, then, is his personal response to their reported disenchantment with him.

By saying that he “could not address [them] as people of the Spirit,” he seems to be allowing that there are “unspiritual” Christians—which is both true and not true. It is not true in the sense that the Spirit is the crucial factor in whether one is or is not a believer; one cannot be a part of the newly formed people of God and be devoid of the Spirit (cf. Rom. 8:9; Gal. 3:2–3; Tit. 3:5–7). On the other hand, the Corinthians are involved in a lot of behavior that runs counter to life in the Spirit; in that sense they are “unspiritual,” not because they lack the Spirit but because they are thinking and living just like those who live outside the household of faith, people who know nothing of the Holy Spirit. But these theological niceties that so often concern us are quite beside Paul’s point. He is “after them,” as it were; and he uses their language, now based on his own content that has just been given, to shame them into reality (despite the demurrer of 4:14).

They consider themselves pneumatikoi, whatever else. They are less sure about Paul and have probably communicated as much to him. From Paul’s perspective, however, their current thinking and behavior betray them. And how it is expressed! Not only could he not address them as “Spiritual,” but they were in fact quite the opposite—“fleshly.” For those whose spirituality had denigrated present physical existence to the point of denying a future bodily resurrection (15:12), this word can only be biting irony. For this reason the translation “worldly” is a bit unfortunate, and misses Paul’s own change of words in the next sentence (v. 3). The word used here, sarkinoi, emphasizes especially their humanness and the physical side of their existence as over against the spiritual. The change to sarkikoi (v. 3) only adds to the blow. They were not only “of the flesh” when Paul first was among them, but even now their behavior is “fleshly,” a word with clear ethical overtones of living from the perspective of the present age, therefore out of one’s sinfulness. Furthermore, sarkinos is not a synonym for the psychikos used a few sentences before (2:14). The change is deliberate. The adjective psychikos had just been used to describe the person totally devoid of Spirit, who could not even follow Paul’s present argument because the whole would be folly to such a person. Because the Corinthians had received the Spirit, he could not call them psychikoi— even if they were acting that way. So the shift to sarkinoi is fitting in every way. He avoids accusing them of not having the Spirit altogether, but at the same time he (with bite, to be sure) forces them to have to face up to their true condition.

Immediately, however, Paul shifts images so as to pick up on their (apparent) accusation that he had fed them only with milk, not with “wisdom.” This is the imagery that has created tensions for later interpreters, especially his immediate elaboration of it (v. 2a). Even though the language probably came from them, the question remains as to what Paul himself intended by it as he directs it toward their prior relationship with him. The problem is twofold: (1) What does he mean by “mere infants”? and (2) what is the significance of “milk” and “solid food”?

First, he calls them “mere infants in Christ,” which harks back to the preceding use of “grown-ups” (2:6; NIV, “the mature”). This is common imagery in antiquity, most often reflecting the theme of “progressing in understanding,” i.e., moving from an elementary grasp of truth to a more mature knowledge of the deeper things of a system. It is common to see this as Paul’s intent as well. The problem with such a view is that it fits neither the argument nor Paul’s use of the imagery elsewhere. Paul regularly uses the imagery of “children” in a positive sense to reflect his own apostolic relationship with his converts. In such cases the word is always teknon (“child”); the word used here (nēpios, “baby” or “mere infant”) almost always has a pejorative sense, in contrast with being adult, and refers to thinking or behavior that is not fitting for a “grown up.” That is certainly his concern here. It is not so much that they have not made progress—that is part of the problem, they think they have—but that they are “adults” acting otherwise when it comes to the life of the Spirit, hence “mere infants.” Thus he is simply continuing the argument of the entire passage, but with new imagery. Just as they think of themselves as “Spiritual”—and are in one sense—but by their thinking and behavior demonstrate that they are “fleshly,” so too they think of themselves as “full-grown,” and they should be, since they are “in Christ” (cf. 2:6). However, by considering Paul’s teaching as “milk for babies” they show that they themselves are “mere infants”; they have abandoned the gospel for something that may look like “solid food” but is altogether without nutritional value. Paul allows that they are indeed “in Christ” because they are believers after all; his concern, however, is not that they “progress” into deeper teaching from the rudimentary, but that they abandon their present “childish” behavior altogether so that they may appreciate the “milk” for what it is, “solid food.”

That means, second, that the images of “milk” and “solid food” must also be understood in light of this antithesis. The preceding argument (2:6–16) implies that for Paul the gospel of the Crucified One is both “milk” and “solid food.” As milk it is the good news of salvation; as solid food it is understanding that the entire Christian life is predicated on the same reality—and those who have the Spirit should so understand the “mystery”; they must live “cruciform,” as people whose lives and values are shaped by the crucifixion. Thus the Corinthians do not need a change in diet but a change in perspective. As Morna Hooker nicely put it: “Yet while he uses their language, the fundamental contrast in Paul’s mind is not between two quite different diets which he has to offer, but between the true food of the Gospel with which he has fed them (whether milk or meat) and the synthetic substitutes which the Corinthians have preferred.”

This imagery, therefore, is of a kind with those that have preceded; and Paul’s point remains the same—to move the Corinthians from their present fascination with sophia (wisdom) back to the pure gospel of the Crucified One. The problem, he insists, is not on his side, but on theirs. “I could not” (explain the cross as God’s wisdom in mystery) “because you could not” (so understand it, given your “advancement” in the wrong direction). The problem, it turns out, is not with the message at all, but with those who had put themselves in a position so as not to be able to hear and understand what Christ through his apostle says to them.

2b–3 With the words “you were not yet able,” Paul brings to a conclusion the long rehearsal of his former association with them. Both his preaching and their response to it are living evidence of the power and wisdom of the gospel. If they failed to see its wisdom, the fault was theirs, not his. Now he moves to their present situation as the evidence that the problem lay with them, not with him. He begins by repeating what he has just said, but now in the present tense. “Indeed, you are still not ready,” i.e., “you are not even now able.”

As proof that they cannot even now understand the true nature of the gospel as truly “Spiritual” people should, he confronts them with their present “jealousy and quarreling.” With these words he returns to language he used at the outset (1:11). But to “quarreling” he now adds “jealousy,” which here means something close to “rivalry,” as evidenced in their bickerings over their leaders. These are not the activities of those who live in the Spirit, but is the behavior of people who are still living “in the flesh.”

Paul begins his explanation of their present inability by using the imagery with which the paragraph began. “For you are still fleshly.” Only now, as was pointed out above, the word has been changed to sarkikoi, “of the flesh,” a word with clear ethical overtones. They are not only not giving evidence of life in the Spirit, but far worse, their quarrels and rivalry confirm that their behavior belongs to the present age, with its fallen, twisted values. Whatever they may be saying about themselves, their behavior belies it. They may indeed be “people of the Spirit”; unfortunately they are “living like the devil.”

The sentence concludes with a rhetorical question that brings all of this into perspective. “For inasmuch as there is in fact rivalry and quarreling among you, is this not clear evidence that you are yet living from the old age point of view?” To make sure that they catch the proper sense of sarkikoi, he adds “that is, are you not acting like mere human beings?” With this question the former paragraph and this one are now brought together. Those who do not have the Spirit are “mere human beings”; thus they consider the cross folly. At the same time their behavior stems from a merely human, thoroughly self-centered point of view. The Corinthians have the Spirit, but are behaving precisely like people who do not, like “mere human beings.” Being human, of course, in itself is not a bad thing, any more than being sarkinoi is (v. 1). What is intolerable is to have received the Spirit, which makes one more than merely human, and to continue to live as though one were nothing more. Receiving the Spirit begins one’s life in the age to come, wherein life is to be lived according to the Spirit, not according to the flesh (“sinful nature”). The verb translated “acting” (lit. “walking”) is used regularly in Paul for “the walk of life,” that is, one’s way of living (cf. 7:17). For him the basic imperative of the Christian life is “Walk [live] by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature” (Gal. 5:16). He simply has no patience for belief that does not issue in proper behavior; and this is not “perfectionism,” it is rather a matter of growing up.

4 With yet one more explanatory “for,” Paul finally brings the argument back to where it began (in 1:10–12). Just as in those opening sentences (esp. vv. 11–12), their slogans specifically illustrate their quarrels, which are the evidence that they are walking according to the flesh (v. 3). In this instance, however, only the first two (Paul and Apollos) are mentioned. As argued above (1:12), not too much should be made of this. Most likely it reflects the probability that the source of much of what Paul has been arguing against up to this point stems from those who think of themselves as “following Apollos.” In any case, Paul will take up these two slogans and use Apollos and himself as examples with which to correct their false view of leadership within the church. It is not that they are not in fact “human beings,” but that they are behaving as mere humans, as people live who have not been redeemed by God’s bounteous mercy and thus live in the power of the Spirit. As Paul will go on to point out a bit later (v. 18), they are being self-deceived; they need yet to become “fools,” from the world’s perspective, so that they may become truly wise, full of the wisdom found in God’s ultimate contradiction of terms (from a merely human perspective)—a crucified Messiah.

Like the preceding passage (2:6–16) this paragraph has had its own history of unfortunate application. Very often the text has been used in the debate over eternal salvation, or whether the saved can ever be lost. The implication is often that because these people are believers, yet “carnal,” it is therefore permissible to be “carnal Christians.” That, of course, is precisely the wrong application, and flies full in the face of what concerns Paul. There is no question that Paul considers his Corinthian friends believers and that they are in fact acting otherwise. But Paul’s whole concern is to get them to change, not to allow that such behavior is permissible, since not all Christians are yet mature. Paul’s language is ironic, not permissive. The eternal destiny of such people, were they to persist in their “merely human” ways, depends on how one views the various warning texts in this letter (e.g., 6:9–11; 10:1–13). But this text is not speaking to that question. We would do well to let it carry Paul’s own point, not to use it for a theological concern of our own making. Spiritual people are to walk in the Spirit. If they do otherwise, they are “worldly” and are called upon to desist. For the apostle, remaining worldly is not an option.

Although at times it may seem otherwise, the argument to this point has nonetheless been dealing with the problem of strife in the church, strife being carried on in the name of wisdom with their leaders as reference points! The argument with which Paul began (1:17–31) is determinative: The cross, God’s wisdom, precludes all human boasting, including boasting in human leaders. Since this wisdom is available to those who have the Spirit, the Corinthians themselves should have known it. Instead they have been carrying on from the point of view of the “flesh,” as those who have missed the meaning of the cross. Their quarreling represents the old ways—living as mere humans.

At issue, however, is not simply quarreling. That was just addressed (in 3:1–4) with polemic and irony. The real issue is their radically misguided perception of the nature of the church and its leadership, especially in this case the role of the church’s teachers. In a series of three paragraphs, using images from agriculture and architecture, Paul proceeds to address three closely related issues. Beginning with a farming metaphor (vv. 5–9), he takes up the question of how God’s newly formed people as a whole are to regard their teachers, since the Corinthians’ own slogans must go. Apostles are only servants, farm laborers, as it were, each with their own task and reward; but everything is God’s—farm, workers, and the growth of crops. By implication, boasting in “mere servants of the farm” is folly in its own right. Then shifting to a construction metaphor (vv. 10–15), he especially speaks directly to those currently responsible for leadership in the church in Corinth. In the strongest possible terms he warns them to build the church with imperishable materials corresponding to the foundation—Christ crucified. From that warning he moves naturally (vv. 16–17) to the character/nature of the building per se. The church itself (the people of God themselves) is (are) God’s temple in Corinth; they are thus resolutely warned against destroying it (as their present fascination with wisdom and divisions is currently doing).

With the final admonition (vv. 18–23) the argument that began at 1:10 is brought to a preliminary conclusion. Picking up the two basic strands of the argument—wisdom/folly, boasting in mere humans—he weaves them together into a final christological-soteriological tapestry that is designed to raise them above their petty boastings. What fools they themselves have turned out to be, boasting in their various leaders when all things are theirs in Christ Jesus.

5What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. 6I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. 7So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. 8The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. 9For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.

This paragraph picks up directly from the rhetorical questions that concluded the presenting paragraph (vv. 1–4). Besides evidencing a misapprehension of the gospel itself, the Corinthians’ slogans bespeak a totally inadequate perception of the church and its ministry. They are boasting in their individual teachers as though they could “belong” to them in some way. With the present analogies, Paul sets out to disabuse them of this misperception regarding “leaders” in the community of faith.

Apollos and Paul are “only servants,” he asserts (v. 5), and by implication, therefore, not “masters” to whom they may belong. But he does not pursue that implication as such; rather, he takes up the imagery of “servant” and places it in the familiar setting of the farm, where God is at once both responsible for growth (vv. 6–7) and the owner of the field (v. 9). The point of the analogy is finally pressed in these last two clauses. Both workers and farm belong to God, who is therefore the one to whom all are accountable. But in making that point, Paul also stresses both the unity and diversity of the laborers. Their aim is one, the harvest; but they have differing tasks (v. 8). With this part of the analogy Paul thus also affirms the ministry of Apollos and absolves him of any personal role in the quarrels.

5 Not only does their boasting in Paul and Apollos offer evidence that the Corinthian believers are “mere humans,” and therefore not yet truly “Spiritual”—in the necessary sense, where belief and behavior concur—but it also quite misses the point of truly Christian ministry. “What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul?” This is rhetoric, and it expresses disdain. “You are of Paul, or Apollos? Are they lords of some kind to whom you may attach yourselves, to whom you may belong? Do you not know, after all, what Apollos and Paul really are?”

The answer is in two parts, the second dependent on the first. We are only “servants,” Paul begins, “through whom you came to believe.” Servant is common imagery in Paul for himself and his co-workers. Under a different metaphor, he will pick it up again at the beginning of the wrap-up (4:1–5). This particular imagery controls Paul’s understanding of his relationship both to his Lord and his gospel. He is God’s servant, and as such is a servant of the gospel. This terminology was ready-made for him and the early church, flowing out of the teaching of Jesus himself (cf. Mark 10:41–45; Luke 22:25–27). Jesus was among them as one who served (Luke 22:27), and in the ultimate expression of servanthood “gave his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). On the other hand, the Greek attitude toward leadership is expressed by Jesus earlier in the Markan passage (“their rulers lord it over them,” 10:42). Hence the irony in Paul’s response continues. The cross is not only the paradigm of the gospel, and of God’s ways that stand in contradiction to human ways, but it also serves as the basic model for ministry. It stands as the divine contradiction to a merely human understanding of the role of leaders, such as the Corinthians were exhibiting.

Paul and Apollos were servants “through whom” the Corinthians came to believe. The aorist of the verb “believe” refers to their point of conversion. This would naturally refer to Paul’s own ministry among them, as the following imagery indicates, but it carries no intention of excluding Apollos. Rather, the emphasis is on the fact that the Corinthians did not believe in Paul or Apollos, but that through them they came to believe in Christ.

The clause that forms the second part of the answer is abbreviated, and therefore somewhat ambiguous. Literally it says, “and to each as the Lord gave.” As always in Paul, “the Lord” refers to Christ, thus without intention pointing to the apostle’s high Christology. The difficulty lies with his abbreviated “to each” without a corresponding noun. Does this refer to the gift of faith given to each of the Corinthians who came to believe through the ministry of the servants, or to the differing tasks given to the servants themselves (as the NIV)? The context demands the latter. Paul is thus anticipating the division of labor to which he will speak next (vv. 6–8), and means something like: “and each servant worked according to the task given each one by Christ himself.” Paul’s concern is twofold: (1) that the Corinthians themselves recognize that the differences between Apollos and himself, which had become occasions for strife, are in fact Christ-appointed for their common good; and (2) that they thus focus not on the servants, but on the Lord himself, whose servants they are all to be. Both of these points will now be elaborated in detail by means of the agricultural analogy that follows.

6 The analogy itself is general and does not necessarily presuppose a certain kind of farming (grains or vineyard). As his concluding affirmation (v. 9) and the rest of the argument indicate, Paul is thinking, not of the conversion of individual Corinthians, but of the planting of the church as such (“you [plural] are God’s field”). There are four particulars in the analogy: (1) the one who “planted the seed” = Paul who founded the church; (2) the one who “watered (or irrigated, cultivated) it” = Apollos who continued a teaching ministry among them; (3) the one who “has been making it grow” = God, to whom they all belong (v. 9); and (4) the “field” or farm = the church in Corinth. The analogy itself therefore functions both to affirm the ministry of Apollos and to put Paul and Apollos on equal footing from the perspective of their mutual servanthood. At the same time, as the following application (v. 7) indicates, it is intended to redirect the Corinthian believers’ focus from the servants to the one God, whom both equally serve, and to whom they all belong.

7 The first application of the analogy is signaled by the strong inferential conjunction “so then,” and moves Paul back to the concluding question of the first paragraph (v. 4) and the follow-up rhetorical questions that begin the next one (v. 5). In effect, it further elaborates the first part of his answer: “only servants, through whom you came to believe.” The problem in Corinth is with perspective. They are viewing things from below, and as a result think altogether too highly of their teachers. In response to that perspective, the questions “What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul?” are answered with a resounding “Nothing but servants,” in this case co-laborers on the farm. But as that response (v. 5 [final clause]) and its corresponding elaborations reveal, this is not the only thing to be said. Paul and Apollos do have essential tasks to perform, for which they will receive their own rewards. But they have no independent importance; from the perspective of ultimate responsibility for the Corinthians’ existence as the people of God, Paul and Apollos count for nothing. Without God’s prior activity bringing them to faith and causing them to grow, there is no church at all. Hence the point is clear: Stop quarreling over those whose tasks are nothing in comparison with the activity of God. Focus on God alone, for God alone saves and sanctifies—it is only God who makes things grow!

8 With this sentence Paul moves to a second application of the analogy from agriculture, which corresponds to the second part of the answer above (v. 5, “as the Lord has assigned to each his task”). For the Corinthians’ ultimate existence as a church, God alone counts. Those over whom the Corinthians are bickering only serve under God. Therefore, their (the servants’) mutual concern is singular: the growth of the crop to a rich harvest. If this point is not spelled out that clearly in Paul’s own language, it is the only one that, in keeping with the analogy itself, makes logical sense of “the one who plants and the one who waters are one,” meaning as the NIV correctly has it, “have one purpose.” In putting it in this language, Paul emphasizes the mutuality of himself and Apollos, probably over against the divisiveness that the Corinthians would bring to the ministry of either of them.

If the first half of this explanation emphasizes the unity of their (Paul’s and Apollos’s) individual labors, the second half emphasizes their diversity (as in vv. 5b and 6). But it does so not by differentiating the tasks, but in terms of pay: each being “rewarded according to their own labor.” In the context of the analogy, Paul’s present point is not immediately obvious. Probably it again emphasizes the servant nature of the workers. They labor under another who also determines their pay. If so, the present analogy anticipates the coming argument that disallows the Corinthians to judge another’s servant (4:1–5). But the language here also anticipates the admonition that follows, that each worker is to take care how each one builds (v. 10b), since fire will test the work of each and thereby determine the reward (vv. 13–15). In this case Paul is less concerned about himself and Apollos as such, although that is not to be discounted, as he is about those who are currently “at work” in the church in Corinth. At the same time the language of “reward” anticipates the conclusion of the next paragraph (vv. 14–15).

9 With an explanatory “for,” Paul picks up the main points of the analogy (that Paul and Apollos are workers together in a common cause and belong to God, and that the Corinthians, therefore, do not belong to either Paul or Apollos because they, too, belong to God) and drives his present concerns home with terse, but pointed, epigrams: “We belong to God as God’s fellow workers; you in turn are God’s field.” At the same time Paul shifts images, “You are God’s building,” and thus sets in motion a new phase of the argument, which will be spelled out in the analogy that follows (vv. 10–15 and 16–17).

In speaking of himself and Apollos as “co-workers,” Paul uses another of his favorite terms to describe those who labor with him in ministry. Usually it refers to someone who has worked as Paul’s companion; here he extends the term to refer to another who in a more distant way joins him in the ministry of the gospel. In the Greek text the emphasis is altogether on God: “God’s servants we are, being co-workers; God’s field, God’s building, you are.” To be sure, some have occasionally suggested that by “co-worker” Paul here intended, as the KJV had it, “we are laborers together with God.” But everything in the context speaks against such a view: The emphatic position of the genitive (“God’s”) suggests possession, as do the following, equally emphatic, genitives, which are unambiguously possessive; the argument of the whole paragraph emphasizes the workers’ unity as co-laborers under God, an argument that would be undercut considerably if he were now emphasizing that they worked with God in Corinth (a view that is altogether modern and quite out of sync with Paul’s own concerns). It should finally be noted that these new “slogans” serve as the climax of the whole paragraph, in which the emphasis is decidedly on God’s ownership, not on Paul’s and Apollos’s working with God, as it were, in Corinth.

Thus the whole paragraph is tersely summarized with these emphatic words. Everything is God’s—the church, its ministry, Paul, Apollos—everything. Therefore, it is absolutely not permissible to say “I belong to Paul,” since the only legitimate “slogan” is “we all belong to God.”

Because the imagery of ministry presented here is so common in Paul, and because it so clearly reflects the teaching of Jesus as well, one may be certain that Paul would intend these words to go beyond their particular historical circumstances to apply to the church at all times in all settings. Whatever form ministry finally takes, and on that we have been divided for centuries, there can be no mistake as to its nature— servanthood, of the kind exhibited by the Lord himself and his apostle. There simply is no other paradigm.

Paul’s points need regularly to be underscored, for both clergy and laity alike. The church belongs to its Lord, and to him alone; and its ministers must function in Christ’s church in the posture of servants. Paul’s intent here of course is to correct a misguided perception of ministry on the part of a church that was making too much of its ministers. Our need to hear it probably reflects the same realities, although most would think of themselves as above the Corinthian attitude.

All too often those “in charge,” be they clergy, boards, vestry, sessions, or what have you, tend to think of the church as “theirs.” They pay lip-service to its being “Christ’s church, after all,” then proceed to operate on the basis of very pagan, secular structures, and regularly speak of “my” or “our” church. Nor does the church belong to the people, especially those who have “attended all their lives,” or who have “supported it with great sums of money,” as though that gave them special privileges. The church belongs to Christ, and all other things—structures, attitudes, decisions, nature of ministry, everything—should flow out of that singular realization. Moreover, those “in charge” must be ever mindful of who is really in charge. To be a servant does not mean the abdication of leadership, nor, on the other hand, does it mean to become everyone’s “errand boy or girl.” It has to do with attitude, perspective, not with one’s place on the organizational chart. And as Paul will make clear a bit later (4:8–17), it must be “like priest, like people.” Servant leadership is required precisely because servanthood is the basic stance of all truly Christian behavior, modeled as it was by the “Servant King” himself.

10By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. 11For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, 13their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. 14If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. 15If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.

At the end of the preceding analogy Paul made an abrupt change of metaphors (to “God’s building”), which he now sets out to elaborate. At the same time, though dealing still with the same general topic of the church and its leadership, he clearly shifts emphasis. Picking up the theme of each one’s being “rewarded according to their own labor” (v. 8b), Paul is concerned to warn, in the strongest possible language, those who are currently “building the church.” The paragraph opens with the imagery itself (v. 10a), followed immediately by the warning (v. 10b). After returning to his own role and emphasizing again the heart of his gospel—Jesus Christ (v. 11)—Paul then uses the imagery in striking fashion to urge them to build with imperishable materials (vv. 12–13) because there will come a day when each person’s work will be tested and the reward of each thereby determined (vv. 14–15).

The paragraph is dominated by the indefinite pronouns “someone else,” “no one,” “each one,” and “anyone.” Since Apollos is not mentioned, and since the urgency both here and in the further application of the metaphor that follows (vv. 16–17) is specifically with what was happening in the church in Corinth at the time of Paul’s writing, the particulars therefore are now shifting from Paul and Apollos to Paul and those currently responsible for the present “wood, hay and straw” of sophia (wisdom). Thus the argument continues to be a frontal attack against the believing community’s division and those primarily responsible for it.

Here is another paragraph that has unfortunately suffered much in the church (cf. 2:6–16; 3:1–4): from those who would decontextualize it in terms of individualistic popular piety (i.e., how I build my own Christian life on Christ), to certain Protestants who have used it as grist for the Calvinist-Arminian debate over the security of the believer, to those in the Roman Catholic tradition who have found in it the single piece of NT evidence for the doctrine of purgatory. Paul addresses none of these issues, not even indirectly. His concern is singular, that those currently giving leadership to the church in Corinth must take heed; and this because their present work will not stand the fiery test to come, since they have shifted from the imperishable “stuff” of Jesus Christ and him crucified to their present brand of “wisdom” (see 1:17).

10 The opening sentences of the paragraph form a chiasm:

A Paul laid the foundation for the church;

B Someone else is now building on it;

B′ But let that “someone” take care how they build;

A′ The foundation Paul laid is Jesus Christ.

Together these sentences set out the particulars of the new analogy (lines A and B) and state its point by warning the builders (line B′) and by specifying the foundation on which they are to build (line A′).

Three of the particulars remain the same as in the preceding analogy. (1) The church in Corinth, not the individual believer(!), is the building, (2) God is the owner (v. 9), and (3) Paul again is presented as the human founder of the church, in this analogy as the one who “laid a foundation as an expert builder.” He defines/elaborates this task in two ways, and even here anticipates the greater concern of the paragraph.

First, the apostle did so “according to the charis (grace) given him.” Although this might be a general allusion to God’s prior act of grace in Christ Jesus as it relates to Paul’s own apostolic ministry (cf. 15:9–10), more likely, as in the opening thanksgiving (1:4), “grace” here refers to a specific charism “given me” by God. Here it would refer especially to his apostolic task of founding churches. This is what makes him an apostle as far as the Corinthian church in particular is concerned, a point to which he feels compelled to return regularly (see 4:15–17; 9:1–2; 2 Cor. 3:1–3; 10:12–16; cf. Rom. 15:20). In either case, the specific notation of “grace given” continues the preceding emphasis (vv. 5–9) on God as the primary ground of their existence.

Second, Paul laid the foundation “as a wise builder.” This choice of words is directly related to the context and especially to what has immediately preceded (2:6–16). By laying the foundation he did—Jesus Christ and him crucified—the apostle himself was the truly “wise” master-builder in contrast to the “wise” in Corinth, who are building the church with totally incongenial materials and are therefore in danger of attempting to lay another foundation as well. This latter point will be elaborated in the next sentence (v. 11); but before that he gives the fourth particular in the analogy: “someone else is building on it.”

With this clause, and especially with its accompanying warning “but each one should build with care,” Paul is once again directing his aim at the Corinthians themselves, and in particular those who are leading the way in their strife and divisions. That he does not now intend Apollos, or Peter, seems certain from various strands of evidence: First, that would contradict what has just been argued (vv. 5–9), where Paul sees Apollos and himself as “one in a common cause” (v. 8), each of whom has been given his own task from the Lord himself. Second, the warning of the paragraph would fall on deaf ears, since Apollos is not now in Corinth (16:12); it seems too indirect for Paul somehow to want the Corinthians to catch such a warning so that they would not exalt Apollos too highly. Third, Apollos is not mentioned in the paragraph, as he is in the preceding one. Finally, everything in the analogy, including what has been said about Paul as the “wise” master-builder, Jesus Christ as the foundation, and the warnings that follow (vv. 13–15), points to a direct confrontation between Paul and the church over their stance on “wisdom.” This is confirmed by the further direct application of the imagery to them later on (vv. 16–17). Thus the indefinite pronouns refer to the Corinthians themselves, and the whole point of the analogy is to warn them of the consequences of persisting on their present course.

11 This sentence is something of an intrusion into the analogy proper, which has to do with the superstructure now being built (vv. 12–15) on Paul’s properly laid foundation, not with whether they are actually laying another foundation as such. But if it intrudes into the analogy (as a fifth particular, not available nor a concern in the preceding one), it is not an intrusion into the argument. The sentence functions in two ways: to remind the Corinthians once again of the argument to this point, and to anticipate the following elaboration by insisting that the reason for care in building the superstructure is related to the character of the foundation.

This sentence seems to be sure evidence that he is once again directly addressing the Corinthian believers themselves, at the least some of its leadership, who by their pursuit of sophia are leading the church toward total destruction (cf. v. 17). Not only must they take care how they build the superstructure, but they are also reminded that there cannot be “any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” The foundation is not proper doctrine, the concern of a later period, but the gospel itself, with its basic content of salvation through Jesus Christ. Since this seems so clearly to hark back to all that has preceded the present analogy (1:18–2:16), we may rightly assume that he intends them to hear “Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1:23; 2:2).

12 With the words “if anyone is building on this foundation,” Paul proceeds to elaborate the second part of our v. 10, the identification of the fourth particular in the analogy and its accompanying warning. This is the primary concern of the paragraph. However, it flows out of the momentary preceding digression (v. 11), with its emphasis on the gospel of Christ crucified. The point is that the quality of the superstructure must be appropriate to the foundation.

But what did Paul intend by listing the six building materials, “gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw”? Regarding this question several observations should be made: (1) The analogy itself, and especially this list of materials, easily lends itself to allegory; and such have been forthcoming on a regular basis in the church. But Paul’s own point lies elsewhere. He did not “mean” anything by “gold” or “straw” as such. (2) The concern of the metaphor is not in this instance with the building as a structure in its own right, but with those who are doing the building. Therefore, any application of the “meaning” of the materials must be consonant with that concern, and with Paul’s own explicit statements. (3) Although this is indeed a “studied scale of descending value,” Paul’s own use of the analogy makes no point of such. Nor does he place emphasis on the “value” (i.e., costliness) of the first three in contrast to the last three. His own elaboration that follows (vv. 13–15) picks up a singular theme, namely that some materials endure fire while others are consumed. His concern, then, is not with the individual items, but with the imperishable quality of some over against the others. (4) With Paul’s own concern in view, and in light of the context of the argument as a whole, one may rightly argue, therefore, that for Paul the “gold, silver, and costly stones” represent what is compatible with the foundation, the gospel of Jesus Christ and him crucified; what will perish is sophia in all of its human forms. It belongs only to this age, and this age is passing away, along with all that belongs to it. (5) Finally, it is probably not irrelevant that “gold, silver, and costly stones” recur regularly in the OT to describe the building materials of the temple. Therefore, Paul does not have some “fabulous building” in view, but the OT description of Solomon’s temple, thus anticipating the (very important) imagery to follow—that what is being built (= the church in Corinth), as will be spelled out shortly (vv. 16–17), is in fact God’s own temple there, in the midst of all other places (“temples” or otherwise) for the worship of pagan deities. And what they are currently doing is desecrating the only temple of the living God in pagan Corinth.

13 The rest of the paragraph now explains the warning at the beginning (v. 10b) in light of the preceding imagery (v. 12). A day of judgment is coming, and it will test each person’s “building,” that is, how one has built, whether of perishable or imperishable materials. The test, with its resultant disclosure of the quality of the materials, will determine the reward. The fact of the sure and, from Paul’s perspective, soon-to-come Day of Judgment serves as the ground of the warning, just as it will serve a bit later (4:3–5) as the ground for their not judging him. Perhaps one also finds here an accent on the future reality of the judgment, in light of their own enchantment with present “spirituality.”

The first part of this verse, as the NIV indicates, is the conclusion (apodosis) of Paul’s conditional sentence (v. 12). In this kind of condition the apodosis states the obvious conclusion to the supposition found in the protasis (the “if” part of the clause). Paul simply affirms what for him is a self-evident reality, that the kind of building one constructs, that is, the kind of material that goes into the workmanship, will eventually be clearly seen for what it is. What follows gives the eschatological grounds for this conviction.

Paul begins by emphasizing the element of “exposure” that the previous sentence had asserted. As “day” brings everything “to light,” so a great Day is lying before all, when everyone’s work will be exposed and seen from the divine perspective. The “Day,” of course, refers to the Day (cf. 1:8), the OT Day of the Lord, a term taken over by Jewish apocalyptic and then by Christians to express their conviction that a time for ultimate divine justice lay still in the future. For Christians that day was made more certain because divine judgment, as well as the life of the future, had already begun in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

But the “revelation” of one’s workmanship is not Paul’s real concern with this imagery, so he quickly moves on to an accompanying metaphor, “fire.” Fire not only “reveals,” it also “tests,” and in the testing the true revelation takes place (vv. 14–15). There are two grammatical difficulties with the first clause: the present tense of the verb (“it is being revealed”) and the lack of an expressed subject: either Paul intends “the work of each” or “the Day.” The two items are interrelated and are of ready solution. Almost certainly he intended “the Day” to be the subject of the verb; otherwise the next clause is redundant. That means that the whole clause functions in Paul’s sentence as a general maxim, which the second clause picks up and applies to the argument. Thus he says: “For the Day of Judgment will expose every person’s workmanship, whether gospel or sophia, because that Day, when it comes, manifests itself with fire; and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work.”

“Fire” was a natural motif that came to be associated with judgment; it occurs throughout the literature of Judaism, especially in the prophetic and apocalyptic traditions. The imagery can refer either to “purifying” or to “testing.” The language here, as well as its further application in what immediately follows (vv. 14–15), makes it clear that Paul’s concern is the “testing” quality of fire. It will not “purify” the worker (see on v. 15); rather, it will judge one’s workmanship to see whether it has been made of “quality” material.

14–15 With a set of antithetical parallels, plus an additional explanation at the end of the second one, Paul spells out the results of the “testing by fire.” The two kinds of material listed above (v. 12) serve as the points of reference. On the one hand, those who stay with the gospel as Paul preached it, who build the church in Corinth with “gold, silver, and costly stones,” will see their work “survive” the test, and they “will receive their reward.” On the other hand, those who persist in pursuing sophia, who are building with “wood, hay, and straw,” will see their work consumed and they themselves “will suffer loss”—although their loss, he is quick to qualify, does not refer to their salvation.

The theme of “reward” harks back to its earlier occurrence (v. 8), and suggests that appropriate “pay” will be given for appropriate labor. For some this has been a difficult idea to reconcile with Paul’s gospel of grace, God’s unmerited favor being lavished on the undeserving. How can grace receive “pay”? The answer to this is complex, since Paul is a complex man. But the solution is most likely to be found in two directions: First, on this matter Paul reflects his Jewish heritage and stands in thoroughgoing opposition to the Hellenistic world. The difference between Paul and his heritage is that for him the “reward” is “according to grace,” not “according to obligation” (Rom. 4:4–5). The very concept of eschatology, with its final salvation and judgment, had inherent in it the concept of final “reward.” But the “reward” is not deserved, even though it is according to “works” (i.e., based in part on what one has done); rather, it too is part of the gift. Second, and very importantly, Paul stood just as firmly over against every form of libertinism and nonethical “spirituality” as he did against every form of legalism. Salvation for him was both “now” and “not yet.” What began in the present as gift is to be persevered in, righteously, and thus consummated at the final glory, which is also a gift. For Paul righteousness is both Gabe and Aufgabe (gift and responsibility). Without the latter, one might surely question the reality of the former. But, again, both are gifts. Thus, as surely as there is final judgment, there is also “reward” and “loss.” What is not known, either from this passage or elsewhere, is the nature of the reward. This text only affirms its certainty.

The nature of the loss, however, is determined by the context. First of all, one’s work itself “is burned up.” In this context that must refer in some way to the church itself, which, as Paul will next go on to warn (v. 17), is in the process of being destroyed by the Corinthians’ sophia and divisions. Again, the precise nature of that “loss” is not spelled out. The “destruction” soon to be mentioned (v. 17) seems to imply the church’s failure to function any longer as a viable alternative to Corinth, by manifesting the nature and fruit of the gospel within totally pagan surroundings. In such a case, there will also be terrible loss on the Day of Judgment, in which many who thought of themselves as God’s people are revealed to be otherwise. As for the “workers” involved, they also, by implication, suffer loss of “reward,” whatever it is that Paul envisions in that passage.

To clarify further that it is the “work” that is consumed (because it was built of perishable material) and not the laborer personally, Paul adds a final quasi-proverbial note: “The person involved will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames.” This sentence is often seen as expressing a purifying element to the judgment, and has served as the NT support for the concept of purgatory. But that is to miss Paul by a wide margin. This is metaphor, pure and simple, probably reflecting something like Amos’s “firebrand plucked from the burning” (4:11). The implication is that anyone persisting in their present course of “worldly wisdom” is in grave danger, and that they “will be pulled out of [their] rubble heap just in the nick of time.”

Thus Paul is not so much making a soteriological, and thus theological, statement as he is warning his Corinthian friends. He obviously, as elsewhere (e.g., 6:11), sees them as within the context of the faith; salvation after all is by grace, not by one’s own works. But also as elsewhere he expects the warnings to be taken seriously. Here the word of warning and the word of hope are one. He wants them to desist from their current worldly wisdom; he wants them, with him, to be saved and to experience reward. But their current behavior is so seriously aberrant that he must warn them yet once more (in vv. 16–17), this time in the strongest terms yet: those who persist in these activities and attitudes are in fact in eternal danger.

This text has singular relevance to the contemporary church. It is neither a challenge to the individual believer to build his or her life well on the foundation of Christ, nor is it grist for theological debate. Rather, it is one of the most significant passages in the NT that warn—and encourage—those responsible for “building” the church of Christ. In the final analysis, of course, this includes all believers, but it has particular relevance, following so closely as it does the preceding paragraph (vv. 5–9), to those with teaching/leadership responsibilities. Paul’s point is unquestionably warning. It is unfortunately possible for people to attempt to build the church out of every imaginable human system predicated on merely worldly wisdom, be it philosophy, “pop” psychology, managerial techniques, relational “good feelings,” or what have you. But at the final judgment, all such “building” (and perhaps countless other forms, where systems have become more important than the gospel itself) will be shown for what it is: something merely human, with no character of Christ or his gospel in it. Often, of course, the test may come this side of the final one, and in such an hour of stress that which has been built of modern forms of sophia usually comes tumbling down.

But the good news of the passage is that one does not need to build badly. That which has the character of the foundation, Jesus Christ crucified and risen, will not only survive any present hour of testing, but will enter the final judgment as a glorious church; and those responsible for such building will receive their due reward, which in itself is an expression of grace.

16Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst? 17If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for God’s temple is sacred, and you together are that temple.

In the two preceding paragraphs Paul has been trying to correct the Corinthians’ false view of church leadership, by redirecting their focus from the teachers themselves to God, who owns all and whose alone they are. At the same time he must correct their understanding of the nature of the church itself. Thus the argument now takes another slight turn, in which Paul carries the preceding imagery (vv. 9b–15) a step further by specifying the kind of building that he and the others have been erecting, namely God’s temple in Corinth. With this imagery he does two things: (1) he tries to help the Corinthians to see the nature and significance of their being God’s people in Corinth, and (2) by picking up the immediately preceding imagery of judgment (vv. 13–15), he sternly warns those who are in process of destroying the church by their divisions. Thus he presents us with this remarkable imagery describing the nature of the local church, as well as with the strongest warning in the NT against those who would take the church lightly and destroy it by merely worldly wisdom, accompanied by divisiveness.

16 The turn in the argument, and the strong feeling with which Paul will present his next point, is achieved with a rhetorical device that occurs here for the first time in this letter: “Do you not know that . . . ?” The fact that he will use this device nine further times in this letter, chiefly in contexts where he is exercised, and that it occurs only once in later letters (Rom. 6:16), probably says much about his present disposition toward the Corinthians and their behavior. In the Thessalonian letters his way of reminding believers of what they already did, or at least should, know was to say, “For even as you yourselves know. . . .” But in this letter he turns to rhetoric, less to remind the Corinthians of something they had already been told than to point to a reality that they should know by the very nature of things. “Do you not know who you are?” he asks them. And it is clear from their current behavior that they do not know, or at least have not seriously considered the implications of who they are as God’s people in Corinth.

The imagery of the gathered church as God’s temple, which occurs twice more in Paul (2 Cor. 6:16; Eph. 2:21), is a pregnant one both for the Jewish Paul and for the Gentile Corinthians. The word used (naos) refers to the actual sanctuary, the place of the deity’s dwelling, in contrast to the word hieron, which referred to the temple precincts as well as to the sanctuary. For Paul the imagery reflects the OT people of God. Although they are never called God’s temple as such, they are God’s own people, among whom God chose to “dwell” by tabernacling in their midst. It is possible, though by no means certain, that the imagery also had eschatological overtones for Paul. Such an understanding would flow from two sources: Jewish eschatological hopes as reflected in a variety of sources, and a tradition, which seems to go back to Jesus himself, that he would rebuild the temple “in three days.” The present experience of the church as the place where the (eschatological) Spirit dwells would thus be the restored temple of Ezekiel’s vision (chaps. 40–48), where God promised “to live among them forever” (43:9) and out of which flowed the river of fresh water that restored the land (47:1–12).

The imagery of the church as temple would have been easily understood by the Corinthians as well, although perhaps not with all of its rich OT overtones. As practicing pagans (see 6:9; 8:7) most of them would have frequented the many pagan temples and shrines (naoi) in their city. Indeed, some of them were arguing for the right to continue to do so (see chaps. 8–10). But now Paul is calling their attention to the fact that, since there is only one God, that one God can have only one temple in Corinth, and they themselves, as a gathered community of believers, are that temple. They have become that new temple by the fact that (in “literal” English) “God’s Spirit dwells in you.” But unfortunately in English this wording can also now become quite ambiguous, so that it is possible to hear the “in you” in an individualistic way—and in the history of the English-speaking church it has been unfortunately almost singularly so understood. But Paul’s own point in context is itself singular, and abundantly clear. His immediate concern is not to assert that the Spirit dwells in each of them, true as that would be for him (cf. 6:19), but that the Spirit of God “dwells in your midst” when they have assembled together for worship. That is, Paul is here reflecting on the church as the corporate place of God’s dwelling, who, when gathered in Jesus’ name, experienced the presence and power of the Lord Jesus in their midst (5:4–5). Again, as earlier (2:10–13; cf. 2:4–5), the Spirit is the key, the crucial reality, for life in the new era. The presence of the Spirit, and that alone, marks them off as God’s new people, God’s temple, when assembled in Christ’s name in Corinth.

17 As God’s temple in Corinth, the church was to be God’s alternative to Corinth, both its religions and vices. But the Corinthians, by their worldly wisdom, boasting, and divisions, were in effect “banishing” the Spirit and thus about to destroy the only alternative God had in their city. Hence, following the rhetoric that calls attention to who they are, Paul solemnly warns those who were thus wreaking havoc in the church: “If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person.” As E. Käsemann pointed out, this has all the earmarks of a “sentence of holy law,” in which the lex talionis (an eye for an eye) and chiasm combine to express the fearful judgment of God on the last Day. One can scarcely circumvent the awful nature of the warning. Those who are responsible for dismantling the church may expect judgment in kind. Indeed, it is difficult to escape the sense of eternal judgment in this case, given its close proximity to the imagery of fire that has immediately preceded (vv. 13–15). Although in the formal character of casuistic law, this is a strongly prophetic word in the apostle, and needs to be heard accordingly.

Some interpreters are dismayed that Paul can now speak of a person within the community as “being destroyed,” especially after the provision of escape was given in the preceding concluding clause (v. 15). In fact it is common to suggest that Paul is dealing with two different groups of people in the two passages. But neither rhetoric nor prophetic threat—not to mention Paul—is so logical. This threat takes the preceding warning (vv. 10–15) to its next step. The whole is addressed to the church. If a distinction is to be made between the “anyone” of this passage and the preceding paragraph, it would be that the focus here is more specifically on those few who seem to be the prime movers of the present quarrelings. The reason for such a dire threat is given in the final clause: “for God’s temple is sacred, and that temple you together are.” The word “sacred” maintains the imagery of the temple, which was set apart for God and was not to be desecrated in any way. But again, Paul’s language has to do, not with ritual holiness (cf. 1:2), but with “holy” in the moral-ethical sense. Thus the statement, although an indicative referring to the imagery of the temple, becomes a functional imperative through the addition of “and that temple you are.” God is holy; his temple is therefore also holy, set apart for his purposes; and as God’s temple, the only temple the living God has in Corinth, you are by implication also to be holy. As this letter reveals, this is not one of their strong suits. So the threat, which is real, is at the same time turned into an invitation for them to become what in fact they are by the grace of God, “God’s holy temple in Corinth.”

This passage has endured a long history of unfortunate interpretation in the church. Because the imagery of the temple is later reapplied to the individual Corinthian who was going to the prostitutes (6:19–20), many have read that usage back into this passage as though it were a word of warning to individual Christians as to how they were to treat their bodies or live out their individual Christian lives. Both the context and the grammar disallow such interpretations, even by “extended application.” This is all the more unfortunate because this is one of the few texts in the NT both where we are exposed to an understanding of the nature of the local church (God’s temple indwelt by his Spirit) and where the concluding warning makes it clear how important the local church is to the one and only God.

One of the desperate needs of the church is to recapture this vision of what it is by grace, and therefore also what God intends it to be. In most Protestant circles one tends to take the local parish altogether too lightly. Seldom does one sense that it is, or can be, experienced as a community that is so powerfully indwelt by the Spirit that it functions as a genuine alternative to the pagan world in which it is found. It is perhaps not too strong to suggest that the recapturing of this vision of its being, in terms both of its being powerfully indwelt by the Spirit and of its thereby serving as a genuine alternative (“holy” in the most holistic sense) to the world, is its single greatest need.

18Do not deceive yourselves. If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age, you should become “fools” so that you may become wise. 19For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight. As it is written: “He catches the wise in their craftiness”; 20and again, “The Lord knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” 21So then, no more boasting about human leaders! All things are yours, 22whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, 23and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.

Job 5:13

Psalm 94:11

That is, Peter

Paul now gathers up the various threads of the argument to this point and brings it to a preliminary conclusion, a conclusion which makes certain that the long argument with which all this began (1:18–3:4) was not some mere sermonic or rhetorical aside, but rather spoke to the root of the problem of their strife. The paragraph is in two parts (vv. 18–20, 21–23), each marked in the Greek text by an identical opening exhortation (“Let no one . . .”), and each thereby bringing closure to the first two parts of the problem (quarreling in the name of their leaders, but doing so under the guise of wisdom).

First he urges that none of them be deceived by what appears to be wisdom but is not. Their sophia belongs only to the present age and has no standing whatsoever with the God whom they serve; indeed, it is foolishness to God. All of this recalls and applies the argument that began all of this (1:18–2:16). This motif in turn is tied to the theme of “boasting” in mere humans, thus picking up the problem of the strife itself, especially as it has been carried on in the name of their various leaders. This also recalls Paul’s initial response to the problem (3:5–9), which pointed out the folly of following mere humans, “servants of the farm,” as it were.

As the reason why they must not “boast” in their teachers, Paul turns their slogans end for end. It is not that the Corinthians belong to Apollos or Paul, but that Paul and Apollos—and everything else—belong to the Corinthians; indeed, all things are theirs because they belong to Christ, and Christ is of God. Thus the main point of the preceding argument (3:5–17) is restated with breathtaking crescendo.

18 Following hard on the heels of the preceding severe warning, Paul exhorts: “Do not deceive yourselves” (“delude,” NAB). Those who persist in pursuing sophia, who are thereby destroying, not building, the church, are self-deceived—and a fearful judgment threatens them (God will destroy the one who destroys God’s temple, the church in Corinth [v. 17]). Paul’s point is that the Corinthians’ present course is nothing but deception, deception of the highest order, and thus leads ultimately to destruction. Hence he urges them to abandon it in favor of one that brings them back to God’s folly, the way of the cross, of a crucified Messiah— which is true wisdom. What follows (vv. 18b–20) spells out this concern by recapitulating the basic paradoxes with which all of this began (1:18–2:16).

The opening salvo is irony once again: “If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age.” Of course they do; that is quite the point. This same formula will appear three more times in this letter, two of which (8:2; 14:37), along with this one, speak to the heart of the attitudinal issues that plague the church. They think of themselves as wise, as having arrived at knowledge (8:2), and as being spiritual (14:37). That is precisely their problem. And in each case Paul must disabuse them of such opinions; otherwise the church is up for grabs.

This passage helps to bolster the conviction that much of the language of the argument is theirs, but that it is picked up by Paul and used against them. They think of themselves as the “wise.” But for Paul such wisdom is strictly “according to the standards of this age.” Paul is an eschatological man, and this age is under God’s judgment and on its way out (cf. 1:20, 27–29; 2:6, 8). In the cross and resurrection of Christ, God has “befooled” human wisdom. Everything is end for end: wisdom is folly, folly is wisdom; weakness is power; leaders are servants; God’s people are nobodies, yet possess all things (vv. 22–23; 2 Cor. 6:9–10). Not everything that has been so reversed is now plainly visible; but the cross and resurrection are evidence of its certainty. Therefore, God’s people must abandon confidence in the securities of the present age; they must trust in God’s folly—“such a person should become a ‘fool’ ”—and thereby become truly wise. Nothing new is said here; this is simply the preceding argument (1:18–3:4) reinforced.

19–20 Paul now gives the theological basis for the preceding exhortation, plus its scriptural support. The way of stating it is the reverse of what was said at the beginning (1:18–25). There he set out to demonstrate that “the wisdom of God [Christ crucified] is foolishness to the world.” Here he says, “The wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight.” Exactly the same point is made, but now in terms of the divine perspective, which ultimately is the only one that counts. If before they were being shown the foolishness of their “wisdom”—because God and God’s ways stand in contradiction to it—now they are being urged to adopt God’s perspective altogether, since their “wisdom,” after all, is folly.

And how do we know? Because once again, as earlier (1:19), there is sufficient evidence from what “is written” that God has always so regarded human efforts to understand God’s ways. In this case two texts are cited, Job 5:13 and Ps. 94:11 (LXX 93:11), brought together under the keyword “the wise,” along with God’s attitude toward such. The citations together illustrate the utter futility of “the wise,” hence the fact that their “wisdom is foolishness in God’s sight.” The first text is expressed in the imagery of hunting, in which the hunter uses the very craftiness, or cunning, of the prey as the means of capture. The ultimate irony is that people are cunningly avoiding the God with whom they have to do; but God has used that very cunning to ensnare them. Thinking themselves to be wise, they are in fact fools. The second text emphasizes their ultimate futility. God knows their reasonings, that they are futile. The obvious point for Paul, therefore, is that the Corinthians are themselves fools if they do not take seriously this divine view of things.

21a With a final emphatic “So then” (see on 3:7), Paul brings the present argument to its conclusion, which is at once exhortation, theology, and doxology. The passage has a kind of grandeur that makes one hesitant to comment on it; nonetheless, to see what makes up that grandeur may cause the hearing of it to be all the greater. He begins with exhortation (v. 21a), proceeds to give the theological basis for it (vv. 21b–22), and concludes with a near-doxology (v. 23) in which everything is grounded in the ultimate theological truth—the unity of God. Before such majesty the Corinthian believers’ divisions and worldly wisdom are altogether silenced and brought to nothing.

First, then, the exhortation: “No more boasting [in] human leaders.” With these words the appeal with which all of this began (1:10–12) is finally addressed directly, by the weaving together of two threads: their sloganeering in the name of their teachers (1:12; 3:4) and their boasting, as though they were self-sufficient (1:29, 31). At this point the NIV has probably not quite caught the intent of Paul’s usage of the word “boast,” which becomes a problem. At the same time it flows directly out of the immediately preceding predicate, that God knows the reasonings of the wise to be futile. In light of all that has been said—about the power of God’s wisdom in the cross, about servant leadership that reflects the character of the cross, about God’s contempt for the futility of worldly wisdom—in light of all that, let no one among you still be bold enough to say “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos.” That is to ground one’s confidence in the creature, mere mortals all. Rather, Paul will now direct their focus one final time to the Creator, who is God over all.

21b–22 This sentence begins with an untranslated “for,” which gives the theological basis for “no more boasting in/about human leaders.” Why not? Because “all things are yours.” These words are predicated on the final theological conclusion to come (v. 23), in which this statement is repeated and the ultimate basis added: “All things are yours, and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.” With these words Paul completely transforms their slogans. They say (lit.), “I am of Paul, etc.” With the analogy of the field (vv. 5–9) Paul changed that to “you are of God.” Now he makes the further transformation, “All things are of you, including Paul, Apollos, and Cephas.” This turns their slogans completely on their head, with the significant difference that the pronoun is plural, not singular. Thus, they may not say “I belong to Paul or Apollos or Cephas,” not only because that is to boast in mere humans, but because that is the precise opposite of reality in Christ. In him, as Paul will later say in lofty cadences, God has already begun what will eventually be brought to full consummation, namely “all things in heaven and earth under one head, even Christ” (Eph. 1:10); therefore, Paul can affirm that presently, all things are yours (plural).

The list of “all things” begins with the three men (Paul, Apollos, Cephas) mentioned early on (1:12), around whose names the Corinthians are clustering in some form of jealousy and strife (3:3). This of course is the point of everything. One is therefore not quite prepared for the sudden expansion of the list, which really does include all things. One wonders whether Paul himself had all this in mind when the sentence began. Nonetheless it is altogether true to his theology. These five items, “the world, life, death, the present, and the future,” are the ultimate tyrannies of human existence, to which people are in lifelong bondage as slaves. For Paul the death and resurrection of Jesus marked the turning of the ages in such a way that nothing lies outside Christ’s jurisdiction. In the form of the cross God has planted his flag on planet Earth and marked it off as his own possession; hence the “world” is his. So also with the whole of existence (“life” and “death”), which are immediately placed into eschatological perspective (“the present and the future”). Because in Christ Jesus both “life” itself and therefore “the future” are ours, “death” is ours as well, as is “the present.” We die, but “life” cannot be taken from us; we live the life of the future in the present age, and therefore the present has become our own possession. For those in Christ Jesus, what things were formerly tyrannies are now their new birthright. This is the glorious freedom of the children of God. They are free lords of all things, not bound to the whims of chance or the exigencies of life and death. The future is no cause for panic; it is already theirs. In light of such expansive realities, how can the Corinthians say, “I am of Paul, or Apollos”? That is too narrow, too constricted a view. Apollos—and Paul, and Peter, and the whole universe—is/are yours. You do not belong to them; they belong to you, as your servants, because “you—and they—are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.”

23 These final words come close to doxology: “All things are yours, and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.” As already noted, this affirmation serves as the ultimate theological basis for what has preceded. It serves also as its proper qualification. Paul’s point is not that “all things are yours” willy-nilly, or selfishly, or in the same sense as they were to the Stoic, who regarded “possession of all things” as making one “self-sufficient”—and therefore ultimately independent and self-centered. “All things are yours” because you belong to Christ; and all things are his (cf. 15:23–28). Thus it is only in Christ that the believer possesses all things; but in him the believer does indeed possess all things.

The final crescendo resounds: “and Christ is God’s.” For some this text has raised moments of concern; for Paul it is simply the final note of triumph. The point of the whole argument has been “possession.” Paul’s Jewish heritage had taught him well: God is one (Deut. 6:4). God is therefore the ultimate reality, the One who created and therefore possesses all things and outside of whose ultimate control lies nothing. Everything Paul understands about the work of Christ is predicated on that singular reality. This is therefore a soteriological statement, not a christological one (in terms of Christ’s being). In keeping with the rest of the NT, most such soteriological statements, when they include words about the Father and Son, express subordination (cf. 8:6; 15:27–28). But it is functional subordination, not ontological, that is, just as what is said much later (in 15:23–28) it has to do with Christ’s function as savior, not with his being as God. God is one; and Christian existence, brought about by the death and resurrection of Christ, is ultimately to be found in the one God. It cannot possibly get any better than that.

On this high note Paul’s response to the Corinthian pride in human leaders and wisdom has come to a fitting conclusion. But the problem is larger still; so he turns next to deal with their attitudes toward himself in particular. But that’s the next chapter.

The Corinthian error is an easy one to repeat. Not only do most of us have normal tendencies to turn natural preferences into exclusive ones, but in our fallenness we also tend to consider ourselves “wise” enough to inform God through whom he may minister to his people. Our slogans take the form of “I am of the Presbyterians,” or “of the Pentecostals,” or “of the Roman Catholics.” Or they might take ideological forms: “I am of the liberals,” or “of the evangelicals,” or “of the fundamentalists.” And these are also used as weapons: “Oh, he’s a fundamentalist, you know.” Which means that we no longer need to listen to him, since his ideology has determined his overall value as one who speaks in God’s behalf. It is hardly possible in a day like ours that one will not have denominational, theological, or ideological preferences. The difficulty lies in our allowing that it might really be true that “all things are ours,” including those whom we think God would do better to be without. But God is full of surprises; and the Eternal One may choose to minister to us from the least expected of sources, if we were but more truly “in Christ” and therefore free in him to learn and to love.

This does not mean that one should not be discriminating; after all, Paul has no patience for that teaching in Corinth which had abandoned the pure gospel of Christ. But to be “of Christ” is also to be free from the tyrannies of one’s own narrowness, free to learn even from those with whom one may disagree.

Given the concluding nature of the exhortations that immediately preceded (3:18–23), and especially their crowning doxological note, one might well wonder why Paul feels compelled to continue. But the present section makes it clear that not all has been said. The Corinthians’ theological misunderstanding of the gospel and church, including the role of their teachers, has now been addressed. But at the heart of much of this is the attitude of many toward Paul himself. These people are not simply for Apollos or Peter; they are decidedly anti-Paul, in the sense that they are rejecting both his teaching and his authority.

This presents Paul with a genuine dilemma. On the one hand, he must reassert his apostolic authority—going the way of his gospel, the gospel that brought them to faith and which alone sustains that faith, is not optional. On the other hand, he must reestablish all that without blunting the force of his argument to this point, especially his adamance as to the servant role of an apostle.

The first paragraph (vv. 1–5) leads the way by making an application of the servant model and showing how that relates to their treatment of him. He does this by changing images from farm to household, thus insisting that he is God’s servant, not theirs; and no one—them in this case—is allowed to judge someone else’s servant. Nonetheless, since he is on the theme of judgment, he gently broadens the perspective to remind them again of the future judgment that all must experience.

Paul then goes on to apply the argument directly to them and their attitudes (vv. 6–13). With rhetoric full of sarcasm and irony he goes for the jugular. His own apostleship, which he portrays in bold relief, contrasting his own “shame” with their perceived “high station,” is alone consonant with a theology of the cross, and thus in keeping with the preceding message of a crucified Messiah (1:18–2:5).

At the end (vv. 14–21) he finally reasserts his apostolic authority, his right to correct their bad behavior and bad theology. But he also does this with consummate skill—by changing the metaphor to father and children and thus appealing to them. But appeal is still apology, so he concludes on a final note of warning. If the father’s “gentleness” will not change their attitudes, then this “rod” must. So how will they have it? Will this letter and Timothy’s visit do it? or must he himself visit them with a “rod” in his hand?

In some ways this is one of Paul’s finest hours. Here for the first time in his letters we catch a glimpse of the man himself, and what makes him run. Above everything else, Paul is “of Christ” (3:23), or “in Christ Jesus” (4:17). This means that he is thoroughly eschatological, but not simply awaiting the end. For him it means that the future (Christ’s return and reign) has been determined by the past (Christ’s death and resurrection), and that that certain future (guaranteed by the gift of the Spirit) determines the present. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead was not a matter of creed for him; it was the singular reality that conditioned his entire existence. But not his alone. By way of the resurrection the eternal God had set the future inexorably in motion; the “coming” of Christ and subsequent “judgment” are inevitable corollaries, as sure as life itself. For Paul, therefore, those sure events radicalize present Christian existence. All merely human judgments are nothing in light of the final judgment; all merely human values, which weigh things heavily toward what may appear to be the favorable end of the scale, have already been judged and are now reversed by Christ himself.

Paul’s problem is that in their own way the Corinthians were also eschatological people, for they too had received the Spirit. But for them this meant not so much that the future determined one’s present life as that one had entered into a new realm of being altogether. They had already arrived, as it were, but in all the wrong ways (4:8). What Paul is trying to do above all else is to get the Corinthians to enter his orbit, to see things from his eschatological perspective. Therefore, it is not simply a matter of his being right and their being wrong on certain specific issues. It has to do with one’s whole existence, one’s whole way of looking at life, since “you are of Christ, and Christ is of God” (3:23), meaning that “you belong to Christ, and through him you thereby belong to God as well.” Without this perspective ourselves much of what is said here can be enigma; but it need not be, once someone has been drawn into Paul’s orbit by one’s own encounter with the living Christ.

1This, then, is how you ought to regard us: as servants of Christ and as those entrusted with the mysteries God has revealed. 2Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful. 3I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. 4My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. 5Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart. At that time each will receive their praise from God.

This paragraph brings together two items from the preceding argument: the apostles as servants (3:5–9) and the coming judgment (3:13–15). At the same time Paul picks up the language of “examining/judging” from what preceded that (2:14–16) and makes explicit what one may have only suspected heretofore, namely that the Corinthians were in fact passing judgment on the apostle himself. This also brings into focus several other preceding items as well: his preaching not being with the wisdom of logos (1:17); the tension over his presence with them in weakness (2:3); the nature of his former preaching as being “milk” for “infants” (3:2); his insistence that he had been among them as a “wise” master-builder (3:10). The Corinthians have almost certainly been passing judgment on him regarding these very things, thereby reflecting their new understanding of Spirituality and disdaining his own theology of the cross.

The argument of the paragraph is easily traced. Changing the metaphor to household stewards entrusted with “the divine mysteries,” Paul says that the Corinthians are to regard him and Apollos in the terms just described—as servants. But his new point is that although he belongs to them, as it were (since he is Christ’s servant for them), he is not accountable to them. What is required of household stewards is faithfulness (v. 2), and only the master of the house, not its other members, can make that determination (vv. 4b, 5c). So, he argues, in one sense what you are currently saying about me is of little consequence (v. 3); but likewise is his own clear conscience (v. 4). Thus they must desist, he enjoins, because what does matter is the return of Christ, who at that time will judge not only Paul but them as well (v. 5). In many ways, this is Paul at his finest!

1 The new turn in the argument is marked by asyndeton (lack of a joining conjunction). But it is not a new topic; rather, Paul is going back to his point made earlier regarding himself and Apollos (3:5–9), now by way of the conclusion to that argument (vv. 21–23). Paul, Apollos, and Cephas do indeed “belong” to them; but that is to be understood in light of his earlier assertion (v. 9) that their leaders first of all belong to God. “This, then,” he begins, “is how [people] ought to regard us, as servants of Christ.” The plurals in these first two sentences (vv. 1–2; us, servants, etc.) must be taken seriously as flowing directly from the immediately preceding assertions (v. 22; cf. v. 6 below). Paul is describing not only his own ministry but that of his fellow servants as well. However, as the final sentences in this paragraph (vv. 3–5) and the rest of the present argument reveal, his ultimate concern here is to set forth his own ministry in the context of his struggle with the Corinthians.

What is especially significant for this paragraph is the change of metaphors. In the preceding argument (3:5–9) the word diakonoi was used, emphasizing the servant nature of their task under God, with secondary emphasis on the division of labor. Now the metaphor changes to that of a household. The first word, hypēretas (“servants [of Christ]”), is a more general term, but often refers to one who has the duties of administering the affairs of another. That this was Paul’s intent is verified by the second word, oikonomos, which denotes a “steward” (often a slave) who has been “entrusted with” managing a household. Thus the present imagery is altogether that of the Greco-Roman household. It turns out in fact to be a happy change of metaphors for Paul (cf. 9:17); not only is it pregnant with the notion of accountability that is in the forefront of this paragraph, but it inherently conveys the motif of delegated authority as well, the other concern of this conclusion to his now long argument, which began with their contentions as to who belongs to whom (1:12–17). Thus apostles are to be regarded as “servants of Christ,” reemphasizing their humble position and their belonging to Christ alone; at the same time they are “stewards of God’s mysteries” (NRSV), emphasizing both their trusted position and their accountability to God.

The “authority” aspect of the metaphor is here brought out in the object of the trust, “the mysteries God has revealed.” We have already met this word in the singular in the preceding argument (2:7). Here it is plural, as also in two later occurrences (13:2; 14:2), but it seems to carry a more general connotation here than in those instances. The reason for this choice of words at this point indeed remains a mystery—in the ordinary sense of our English word. Some have seen here an allusion to the pagan mystery cults, wherein Paul has taken a word with which the Corinthians would have been familiar and has given it new meaning, referring to the Christian “mysteries” as over against those of Isis, etc. The problem for us is complicated by how the Corinthians themselves would have understood it, given their own thoroughly pagan background and environment. Most likely, as earlier (2:7), it again reflects Paul’s own Semitic usage, in which, as one who has the Spirit, he has been given to understand God’s plan of salvation, long hidden to human minds but now revealed in Christ. Thus the “mysteries of God” refers to the revelation of the gospel, “hidden,” as it were, in preceding ages, but now known through the Spirit and especially entrusted to the apostles to proclaim.

2 This sentence is joined to what was just said by a complex set of adverbial particles, whose purpose is clearer than their precise meaning. Bauer suggests something like “in this connection, then,” which nicely fits the intent of the clause: to elaborate the metaphor in the direction of Paul’s primary concern. What is sought in “stewards” is faithfulness, namely that they be trustworthy (in the primary sense of that word: “worthy of the trust that has been placed in their care”). Not eloquence, nor wisdom (nor “initiative,” nor “success”—the more standard contemporary requirements), but faithfulness to the trust, is what God requires of his servants. For Paul this means absolute fidelity to the gospel as he received it and preached it (cf. 15:1–11). His intent, of course, is not to provide a general maxim for Christian ministry—although it is still the only valid criterion—but to set up the singular criterion by which God alone could be his judge and which would therefore rule out the Corinthian “examination” of him and his ministry.

3 Paul now applies the preceding general maxim specifically to himself and the Corinthians’ attitude toward him. They have been “examining/judging” him (see on 2:15). As noted before, this word does not so much refer to a verdict that has been handed down, as to the process of “examining” that leads to the verdict. Their attitude toward him, either generally speaking or in some specific way, amounts to a judicial inquiry (cf. 9:3); they are “investigating” him, bringing him before themselves as the grand jury, as it were. But for Paul the application of the preceding criterion (v. 2) forbids such activity.

The sentence begins “But it is a matter of the least consequence to me, that I am judged by you.” The relationship of this clause to what has preceded, which is less than transparent, is based on an assumption within the metaphor itself, finally spelled out in the next sentence (“It is the Lord who judges me”). The assumption is that, since the criterion is faithfulness to a committed trust, only the one from whom he had received the trust can judge him—not his fellow servants nor in this case those who might be “under him,” the Corinthians themselves. But by this statement Paul is not being flip or arrogant. The addition of the next phrase, “or by any human court” (lit. “by any human day”), puts it into perspective. The word “day,” which is similar to our expression “having one’s day in court,” is to be understood in light of the Day already mentioned (3:13), but now also anticipating the “day” of final judgment with which the paragraph ends (v. 5). This is not a criticism of the Roman judicial system; Paul is once again being thoroughly eschatological. The only judgment that counts is the final one (v. 5); in light of our present eschatological existence, in which we are already determined by the future and the present age is recognized as under the judgment of God and thus passing away, all human systems amount to nothing (cf. 6:2–4).

Therefore, for Paul all merely human judgments against him, whether by the Corinthians or by any others who would so judge him, are of little or no consequence whatsoever. The only judgment that counts is the final eschatological judgment administered by Christ himself. So much is this so that Paul includes any personal “judgments” he might make of himself as equally inconsequential. He does not “even judge himself,” not because he is irresponsible, or intends to be so, but because he is in the service of another. His personal evaluations of his own performance are irrelevant; what his master thinks is what counts. Besides, any such judgments also belong to this age. In his own worldview Paul stands too close to the consummation to be exercised by self-examination.

4 The reason Paul can make such bold statements as the preceding ones (v. 3) is finally given in the sentence at the end of this verse (“It is the Lord who judges me”), which in turn leads to the final exhortation that follows (v. 5). But before he gets there, he feels compelled to add a qualifier to the remarkable statement at the end of the last sentence, “I do not even judge myself”—which he must have realized could play into their hands. In Thessalonica he had already been scored for alleged hidden motives (1 Thess. 2:1–12), and apparently some of that had surfaced in this church as well (9:1–19; cf. 2 Cor. 2:17–3:4 and passim). Having renounced even personal evaluation of his stewardship, he now adds, I do not intend to suggest that I really do have hidden agendas that have yet to be revealed. As far as my discharging the responsibilities of my stewardship is concerned, “my conscience is clear.” He says as much again three arguments later (“I give my judgment as one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy,” 7:25 [the same adjective as in v. 2 above]).

But the qualifier itself is quickly qualified, lest the point of the imagery be lost. “With regard to my stewardship my own conscience is clear. But so what? That does not mean that I am thereby actually vindicated, or acquitted.” The NIV’s use of “innocent” here is slightly misleading. At this point it is not the presence or absence of innocence that concerns Paul. Rather, he is simply keeping the metaphor going. Personal evaluation of his own stewardship is irrelevant in light of his ultimate accountability only to the Lord. Not that he is aware of any breach of duty, he is quick to add. Now he simply gets back to the point: The fact that he knows of no failure with regard to his trust likewise counts for nothing, since that simply puts it back onto the level of a merely human court. His own clear conscience, therefore, does not acquit him before God.

The reason? “It is the Lord who judges me.” In saying this, Paul has arrived at the point of the imagery with which the present argument began (v. 1). As the concluding sentence indicates (v. 5), “the Lord” is Christ, the metaphor itself having dictated this choice of titles: Only the Lord (kyrios), the master (kyrios) of the house, to whom alone I am accountable, may examine me (anakrinō, v. 4) and hand down a verdict (krinō, v. 5) as to the faithfulness with which I discharge my duties. The obvious conclusion, therefore, will be pronounced (by implication) at the beginning of the next sentence: “You must stop judging me.”

5 With yet another emphatic “So then,” Paul brings the imagery of this paragraph to its conclusion in the form of a strong imperative: “judge nothing before the appointed time.” In light of what appears to be actually happening (revealed in v. 3, and later in 9:3), this injunction should probably be given its full force as a prohibition in the Greek present tense: “So then, stop reaching a verdict on anything before the appointed time.” By “anything” Paul does not mean that they are to make no judgments. A bit later, in the context of flagrant immorality in their midst (5:12), they are commanded to “judge those on the inside,” and still later (6:5) they are expected to be able to judge disputes between brothers within the community. Rather, the kinds of “judgments” that must cease are those they are currently making about Paul and his ministry, judgments that reflect their lack of genuine eschatological perspective. Such judgments are “before the appointed time,” when the Lord, the “master of the household,” will himself come and hand down the verdict: “At that time each will receive their praise from God.” Thus the Corinthians’ own judgments of Paul are inconsequential both because only the Lord can judge his own servants (v. 4b) and because only the final eschatological judgment counts for anything.

Paul’s point is now made; nonetheless he proceeds to qualify the coming of the Lord by appending a description of the Judge: “He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of people’s hearts” (cf. 14:24). Using the language of his Jewish heritage, in the form of Semitic parallelism (cf. 3:15), he reflects on the reality that nothing can be hidden from the God with whom we all have to do. God will expose (“bring to light”) all things, as the One who already dwells in inaccessible light, where there is nothing “hidden in darkness,” including the inner recesses of one’s own thoughts—the motives that lie behind the visible actions. Paul’s primary reason for this description of the coming Judge seems to be to reinforce what he has just pointed out (v. 4), that he really has nothing to hide. Indeed, what is remarkable about Paul’s use of this language is its positive application, that it will result in his—and others’—receiving their “praise from God.” At the same time, since he expands the application to “each person” (cf. 3:10–15), it also serves as an invitation to the Corinthians to “come clean.” They, too, are candidates to “receive their praise from God” when the Lord comes. On the other hand, if they do not correct their ways, the clause could also function as a veiled threat. Christ “will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of people’s hearts.” A sure future lies before the Corinthian believers as well. So take heed.

The application of this paragraph to the contemporary church seems self-evident. On the one hand, it is a word to those in the church who are forever “examining” their ministers, and who in any case tend to do so on the wrong grounds. Corinth is not the only church that ever became disillusioned with its minister because he or she lacked enough “charismatic” qualities. But God’s Word to us is that faithfulness, not success, is what is required of God’s servants. On the other hand, although not intended so by Paul, by implication it is also a word to those who preach and teach, that they recognize themselves as “under trust.” Their “trustworthiness” is finally going to be judged by the Lord himself, on the grounds of their being faithful to the trust itself, the gospel. In that hour none of one’s self-evaluations as to one’s worth in the kingdom is going to count for a thing, only our faithfulness to the gospel itself.

6Now, brothers and sisters, I have applied these things to myself and Apollos for your benefit, so that you may learn from us the meaning of the saying, “Do not go beyond what is written.” Then you will not be puffed up in being a follower of one of us over against the other. 7For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not?

8Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich! You have begun to reign—and that without us! How I wish that you really had begun to reign so that we might reign with you! 9For it seems to me that God has put us apostles on display at the end of the procession, like those condemned to die in the arena. We have been made a spectacle to the whole universe, to angels as well as to human beings. 10We are fools for Christ, but you are so wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are strong! You are honored, we are dishonored! 11To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. 12We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; 13when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world—right up to this moment.

Paul now sets out to apply the foregoing figures (from 3:5–4:5) directly to the situation in Corinth. But how he applies them! The section is dominated by two themes: their pride (vv. 6–8, 10) and Paul’s weaknesses (vv. 9, 11–13), the clue to which lies with the final, intentionally devastating question in the first paragraph, “and if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not”? He begins by going right to the root of the matter—their pride—which has caused them to be “puffed up” against Paul (v. 6b). After trying to deflate them through a series of rhetorical questions (v. 7), he launches into an ad hominem argument against both their exalted status and their improper view of apostleship. The contrasts are stark: They have “arrived” (v. 8); he is like a man condemned to die in the arena (v. 9). They are wise, strong, and honored; he is foolish, weak, and dishonored (v. 10). The paragraph then concludes with a catalogue of apostolic tribulations (vv. 11–13), in which he “boasts” in the very things about himself that they disdain. The irony is devastating: How they perceive themselves, masterfully overstated twice (vv. 8 and 10), is undoubtedly the way they think he ought to be. But the way he actually is, set forth in the concluding rhetoric (vv. 11–13), is the way they all ought to be.

Paul is here applying to the Christian life the theology of the cross set forth at the beginning (1:18–2:16). It is true that this paragraph speaks of his apostleship in particular, but it is equally true that the whole point of the next paragraph (vv. 14–17) is to urge them to “imitate” him, that is, to follow his “way of life in Christ Jesus.” For Paul, as we have seen, to be a servant means to be a servant of Christ Jesus. It means to go the way of the cross: “It is the way the master trod; shall not the servant tread it still?”

6 With this sentence Paul proceeds to tell the Corinthians expressly why he has been using the various preceding analogies about himself and Apollos. It was “for your benefit,” he tells them, which is then spelled out in two purpose clauses. The first one is a notoriously difficult crux: “that you may learn from us the meaning of the saying, ‘Do not go beyond what is written.’ ” Whatever that means, the aim of everything that has preceded, as the rest of the argument demonstrates, is the final purpose clause: that “you will not be puffed up in being a follower of one of us over against the other.” They have been “boasting in servants,” mere humans, and this has involved them in strife and quarrels. Here we learn that they are in fact “puffed up” in favor of “the one” (probably Apollos, as we shall note momentarily) and over against “the other” (Paul). It is this pride of theirs, plus their being over against Paul, that he will address in the rest of the paragraph (through v. 13).

That the argument has reached the moment of truth is signaled first of all by the way it begins: with the words “these things” placed in the emphatic first position, followed by the transitional particle de (NIV, “now”) and the vocative “brothers and sisters” (see on 1:10). As the verb and the specific mention of Paul and Apollos indicate, “these things” refer to the various images that have made up the preceding argument (from 3:5 through 4:5). The sentence also seems to imply that whatever role Peter may have had in the community, he was not being followed vis-à-vis Paul in the same way that Apollos was (see on 1:12 and 3:22). The verb translated “I have applied” ordinarily means “to change the outward appearance of anything, the thing itself remaining the same.” But despite a very old tradition going back to Chrysostom which would make the verb mean that here, it makes very little sense to do so. The context and the emphatic position of “these things” demand a meaning wherein the figures, not the persons, are what have “changed form.” That is, he has gone from metaphor to metaphor, changing images as he went along, but always intending them (at least most of them), as he now says, to apply “to myself and Apollos.” In other words, in case they have somehow missed it, he now expressly tells them that he has been carrying on the argument with its various images about himself and Apollos so that they might learn something, and as a result desist from their current “pride in persons.”

But what is it that he wanted them to “learn” from the preceding metaphors? This clause is particularly difficult to pin down, and as is often true with such moments, it has also received a considerable amount of scholarly attention. Literally it reads: “in order that you may learn in us the not beyond what is written,” a text that some see as so obscure that they despair of finding its meaning. One solution would emend the text by eliminating altogether the five troublesome words, to mē hyper ha gegraptai (“the: not above what is written”), suggesting that they are a gloss. But Ockham’s razor must prevail in this case; the solution is defeated by its very ingenuity and complexity. If one allows that the text as we have it is what Paul wrote, the structure itself is easy enough to discern, even if the final sense is less so. The neuter article to in this instance reflects a standard usage: to introduce quoted material (cf. 14:16). This in itself eliminates those interpretations suggesting that “what stands written” refers to the whole argument to this point. The NIV, therefore, seems properly to have caught the sense of Paul’s Greek: “that you may learn . . . the meaning of the saying, ‘Do not go beyond what is written.’ ”

But that solves only half the problem—the easier half at that. What does the saying itself mean? and where does it come from—from the Corinthians or from Paul? Here the NIV is (rightly) ambiguous, keeping very close to what Paul has actually said, with a minimal degree of interpretation. There are two basic options: (1) Taking their clue from the verb gegraptai, which refers throughout Paul’s letters to the citing of Scripture, most interpreters think that the saying means something like “live according to scripture” (RSV). This is an attractive option, but it leaves one with the difficulty of deciding what “scripture” refers to: the texts specifically cited in chapters 1 and 3? or the OT in some overall, but vague, sense? Of these two options the former is to be preferred, but it is still not clear how the Corinthians would have understood the cited texts as something they were “not to go beyond.” (2) The second option sees the saying as a popular proverb, which both he and the Corinthians knew, that meant something like “ ‘Keep within the rules,’ as they say” (NEB). This, too, is attractive; but again it is not certain what the proverb would have meant in this context. Probably something like “The way you are treating me vis-à-vis Apollos is not playing within the rules of the game, as it were.” Of these solutions, the one that sees Paul as referring to previously cited Scripture seems more likely. If so, then this first purpose clause would be speaking again to the matter of wisdom and boasting, that they should “live according to scripture” and not boast illegitimately (1:29, 31), nor be caught up by the “wise” whom God has ensnared (1:19; 3:19–20). But on this matter we must finally plead ignorance. Here is a case where the apostle and his readers were on a wavelength that will probably be forever beyond our ability to pick up.

But if what they were to “learn from us” cannot finally be determined, the final goal of the learning seems certain. They were to stop “boasting” in “the one” in such a way as to be “over against the other.” Here we come to the root of the problem. Although this may simply be a general statement against the whole scene of quarreling as expressed at the outset of the letter (1:12), it seems most likely that “the one” here is Apollos and “the other” Paul. Two items support this view. First, the word for pride in this case, which means to be “puffed up” (similar to our idiom from balloons, “filled with hot air”), occurs again a bit later (v. 18, “arrogant,” NIV), specifically in a context where some stand over against the apostle because he had not returned to visit them. Second, the combination of “the one” and “the other,” where they follow the mention of two specific people, would ordinarily refer back to the two people, not to “one” or “another” in general. It may be, of course, that the two could alternate, depending on whose side one was on (i.e., a person saying “I belong to Paul” could also be over against “the other,” who in that case would be Apollos). And that may have been so; but the inescapable implication of the rest of the argument in this chapter is that some of them at least were decidedly against Paul, and he now turns to take them on for the pride exhibited in their opposition to him.

7 The “for” that connects these questions with the beginning sentence (v. 6) indicates that Paul is about to give reasons—by way of rhetoric—why those who are “puffed up” against him are out of place. Their pride in persons reflects a lack of proper perspective, a lack of gratitude. The Fall has given us all too high a view of ourselves, with a correspondingly low view of others. Instead of offering humble thanksgiving for gifts received (see on 1:4), the Corinthians have allowed the gifts to become a sign of status and a source of dissension. With these questions, then, Paul is trying to help them regain perspective.

The exact intent of the first question, however, is not immediately transparent. The difficulty lies with the meaning of the verb diakrinei (“discern, distinguish”), which is probably something of a wordplay on the anakrinō (“examine”) and krinō (“judge”) from before (vv. 3–5). It is common to see it as referring to the Corinthians’ being “puffed up” against one another within the community. Thus: “Who makes you different from anyone else?” (NIV). The implication is that there are no grounds for anyone’s exalting oneself over another, since any differences are ultimately attributable to God. But this places the emphasis on the internal quarrels in the community, which do not otherwise seem to surface at this point in the argument, where Paul is trying to correct their attitude toward himself.

The alternative is to see the question as directly related to the immediately preceding sentence and their pride vis-à-vis Paul. In this case the question would mean, “Who distinguishes you?” implying, On what possible grounds do you boast in this manner? The implication is that their boasting in wisdom, which allows them to “examine” Paul, is strictly self-proclaimed. The English equivalent to such rhetoric would be, “Who in the world do you think you are, anyway? What kind of self-delusion is it that allows you to put yourself in a position to judge another person’s servant?”

If the first question marks the Corinthian conceit as presumptuous, the second marks it as ungrateful—and is singularly devastating: “What do you have that you did not receive?” This is an invitation to experience one of those rare, unguarded moments of total honesty, where in the presence of the eternal God one recognizes that everything—absolutely everything—that one “has” is gift. All is of grace; nothing is deserved, nothing earned. Those who so experience grace also live from a posture of unbounded gratitude. Those, such as the Corinthians, who think of themselves as especially gifted with the Spirit and wisdom, thereby enabling them to judge another, reflect a total misunderstanding of grace, and quite miss the “humility of God” expressed in the Crucified One.

In case they miss the point, Paul drives the second question home with a third, which assumes the answer “nothing” to the second: “And since you did receive it [i.e., it was neither deserved nor earned], why do you boast as though you did not?” Here is the telling word. Their “boasting” is sure evidence that they have missed the gospel of grace. Instead of recognizing everything as a gift and being filled with gratitude, they rather possessed their gifts—saw them as their own—and looked down on the apostle who seemed to lack so much. Grace leads to gratitude; “wisdom” and self-sufficiency lead to boasting and judging. Grace has a leveling effect; self-esteem has a self-exalting effect. Grace means humility; boasting means that one has arrived. Precisely because their boasting reflects such an attitude, Paul turns to irony to help them see the folly of their “boasting.”

8 As a contrast to the stance of gratitude and humility urged by the preceding rhetorical questions (v. 7), Paul now begins a series of antitheses between them and himself, to which shame is the intended and only suitable response. With three staccato sentences, the rhetoric punctuated by asyndeton, Paul goes straight to the heart of the matter. The words are full of biting irony, attacking their own view of themselves (cf. Rev. 3:17), which is at once true and false. It is true in the sense of what he affirmed in the opening thanksgiving (1:5) and will affirm again later on (12:13), that in Christ they have all drunk deeply of the Spirit and have been enriched with every kind of Spirit gifting. But such gifts must be forever humbling, since they finally lead to a discipleship that goes the way of the cross, not the way of a false triumphalism.

The three verbs attack not just their pride in general, but specifically their view of spirituality, which reflects an “overrealized” eschatology. Paul’s perspective, which he shares with the rest of the NT writers, is one of “already but not yet” held in tension; theirs is one of “already” with little room for “not yet.” Having received the Spirit, they have already arrived; for them spirituality means to have been transported into a whole new sphere of existence where they are “above” the earthly, and especially “fleshly,” existence of others. Thus, “already you have all you want,” a verb that means to eat to the full. Not only do they boast in what is a gracious gift, but they are “satiated” with their gifts, including “wisdom.” “Already you have become rich!” (cf. 1:5), a second metaphor for spiritual giftedness. In both cases they are gifted indeed, but not in the way they think.

The emphatic position of the adverb “already” marks the first two exclamations as eschatological; the language of the third emphatically does so: “Already you have begun to reign—and that without us!” Despite the support of many commentators and translators, the original NIV (“already you have become kings”) reflected a slightly skewed nuance for the verb; in Paul’s sentence it refers not to their status as kings but to their activity of reigning. This has now been corrected to “[already] you have begun to reign” (cf. NAB: “You have launched upon your reign”; cf. NEB, Barrett). Although the difference between the two may seem slight, the point is that Paul’s language here is thoroughly eschatological and reflects his Jewish heritage, which viewed the saints as sharing the reign at the End, but not themselves as becoming kings. For Paul the long-awaited messianic kingdom had been inaugurated by the coming of Jesus. The kingdom of God is both a present reality (v. 20) and a future hope (6:9). Paul thus sees their present boasting in spiritual status as tantamount to their supposing the final reign of God already to have begun. As with the Spirit’s giftings with which they have been enriched, so also with the kingdom of God. They have indeed entered the kingdom, of which the Spirit is the evidence. But they have not yet fully realized the End, of which the resurrection will be the evidence (cf. chap. 15).

In the Greek text the “without us” stands in the same emphatic position as the “already” in the previous two sentences. As the NIV suggests, it means not “apart from our help,” but, as the next sentence implies, “without our having a share in it.” The use of the plural “us” here and throughout the rest of this passage needs to be noted. By this designation Paul is first of all referring to himself. But the use of “us,” especially “us apostles” in the next sentence (v. 9), indicates that the Corinthians are being set over against all their teachers. Again, the plural “you” may not necessarily include all believers, but the fact that the church as a whole is being contrasted to Paul—and his view of how other apostles also ought to be—implies that the infections of “some” have spread widely among them.

The final sentence brings all this into perspective. “How I wish that you really had begun to reign”; that would mean that the End which we all await had in fact truly come. It would mean, Paul says somewhat wistfully, that we also have entered the final kingdom with you. Instead, he remains as they know him to be, full of (mostly physical) weaknesses. But in contrast to them, he will capitalize on the very things they disdain, because these weaknesses reflect the true nature of discipleship, discipleship that is consonant with his preaching of the cross.

9 The final sentence of the preceding verse sets up the contrasts of the rest of the paragraph, contrasts not only between them and himself, but also between their opposing views of apostleship—and discipleship. Paul has not in fact entered the time of reigning, and neither by implication have they. This latter point, however, is not his immediate concern. Rather, he first sets forth in its starkest form the evidence that he and the other apostles have not yet begun to reign. To do so he uses the figure of those condemned to die in the arena. We apostles are like them, he says, not like those who have the places of honor in the box seats.

The metaphor reads (lit.): “For it seems to me that God has appointed us the apostles to be last, as those condemned to die.” Many interpreters understand the words “to be last” to suggest the last events of the spectacles, whose participants were those condemned to die, either as gladiators or those simply thrown to the beasts. The NIV, on the other hand, understands them in terms of the Roman triumph, in which a conquering general staged a splendid parade that included not only his armies but the booty as well. At the very “end of the procession” were those captives who had been “condemned to die in the arena.” In that way they became a spectacle for all to see. Since Paul will utilize this imagery again in his next (preserved) letter to them (2 Cor. 2:14), also in connection with his apostleship, it seems likely that this is also in view here. In either case, the metaphor is a striking one, intended to begin the series with the same sense of utter humiliation with which it will conclude (v. 13). The scandal of the cross is written large over Paul’s vision of his own apostleship. For him it truly was “like master, like servant” (cf. Matt. 20:26–27).

The Corinthians’ pride in spiritual status apparently included a degree of embarrassment for them over Paul’s lack thereof, not to mention his lack of wisdom and eloquence. It was perhaps doubtful from their perspective whether he was an apostle with much standing. With a final thrust at this pride he affirms not only that he is like one condemned to die in the arena, but that the spectacle is for the whole world to behold. Indeed, in words that must have aimed at their discomfort, Paul says that there is a cosmic dimension to the spectacle: He is on display before the whole universe, as it were—not just human beings, but the angels as well. That seems to be the point of the reference to angels, which is otherwise not entirely discernible. Angels are referred to in three passages elsewhere in 1 Corinthians (6:3; 11:10; 13:1). In each case some exegetical difficulties are attached to the references. Paul here assumes more than he explains for the sake of his later readers! We may assume that he means those messengers of God whom we would call “good angels,” since Paul does not call those who are evil “angels,” but “principalities and powers.”

10 The contrasts begun in the preceding sentences (vv. 8–9), in the context of eschatology, are now resumed in an extraordinary way. With three antitheses similar to those expressed earlier on (1:26), Paul sets the Corinthians and himself (and other apostles) in bold relief, again with total irony. The majority of the Corinthians are not among the “wise, powerful, or honored”; but they are acting as if they were. In one sense Paul would allow that they are, since they are “in Christ.” But they are all of these things in the wrong way; so as before, the purpose of this irony, as well as the tribulation list that follows (vv. 11–13), is both didactic and apologetic. Their “theology of glory” must finally yield to that which alone is Christian, the theology of the cross. At the same time they must stop disregarding his apostleship.

The first set flows directly out of what has immediately preceded (v. 9) but also repeats the themes from two preceding sections (1:18–25; 3:18–19). The apostles’ being a spectacle of cosmic proportions makes them “fools for Christ.” Yet there is obvious double entendre: They also thereby reflect the truth of the gospel, which is folly in the eyes of the worldly wise. The Corinthians, on the other hand, find themselves in the “seat of the scornful”: “You are so wise in Christ.” The addition “in Christ,” which probably occurs to balance the “for Christ” in the first clause, only adds to the irony. It is true that they are “in Christ”; but they are altogether missing Christ (see 2:6–16). Those who are in Christ should be “sensible” indeed, but for Paul that means to take his view of the gospel, not the view of the worldly wise, who are not in Christ.

The second set also picks up the themes of the opening argument (1:18–25), which are repeated two paragraphs later (2:3–5). “We are weak.” That is the problem from the Corinthian perspective (cf. 2:1–3). But again there is double entendre: Paul’s weaknesses reflect the “weakness of God,” which is displayed in the cross as his saving power, and are also (2:4–5) to be understood as the proper channels through which God’s power might be manifested. On the other hand, “you are strong!” In light of his earlier pronouncement about their own social status at the time of their conversion (1:26–28) this is the ultimate irony. They are not in fact among the powerful and influential in Corinth, but by their judging Paul they are assuming the seat of such. Yet again, in Christ they should be among the truly “strong,” but woefully are not so.

The final set of contrasts is put in reverse order, probably to create a smooth transition to what follows (vv. 11–13), which will deal with the apostles only. The shift here from the “well-born” of the earlier description (1:26) is noteworthy. He could not say that about them, precisely because so few would have been. But they can be called “the honored,” partly because in Christ that is true—they are destined for glory (2:7). This is surely intended as irony, however, since in their case the only “honor” is self-honor. The worldly wise, whose theology they are emulating, would scarcely afford honor to those who make up the majority of the Christian community in Corinth. Besides being a play on the earlier description (1:26), this pair also echoes the preceding sentence. The position in which God has placed the apostles, at the end of the procession as those condemned to die in the arena, is the ultimate humiliation of the “dishonored.” The Corinthians, on the other hand, would be among those in the procession or the throng, “the honored,” who would watch the “dishonored” go to their deaths. But Paul is “dishonored” only before the world, who also dishonor Christ—which again puts the Corinthians in a position of jeopardy. The rest of the passage proceeds to detail the nature of the “dishonor” that befalls those who bear the message of the cross.

11–13 With these concluding sentences Paul now abandons irony for straight talk. This tribulation list, which spells out in detail the “dishonor” that attends Paul’s apostolic ministry, reflects a common phenomenon in antiquity. Such lists can be found elsewhere in Paul himself, as well as in Stoic philosophers, Jewish apocalyptists, Josephus, the Greek biographers and historians, and the later Gnostics (cf. also Heb. 11:33–38). What Paul has in common with such lists is the phenomenon itself, plus an incidental use of language here and there. The content of this list is adapted both to his circumstances as a missionary of the gospel of Christ and to his struggles with the Corinthians. The great difference between this list and its companions in 2 Corinthians (see ) is the didactic purpose of this one. As the following explanation (vv. 14–17) will go on to say, this is a model in kind, if not in specifics, of what the Corinthians also are to be.

These concluding words hold together as a single piece, beginning and ending on the same note: “To this very hour/up to this moment.” This looks like a deliberate contrast to the Corinthians’ overrealized eschatology addressed at the beginning (v. 8), again emphasizing the harsh realities of Christian life between the ages, over against their having begun to reign. The catalogue is in three parts: (1) a list of five commonplace items, expressing the missionary’s deprivations and ill-treatment (v. 11), to which is added a sixth that seems especially to be an area where Paul’s behavior has rubbed the Corinthians the wrong way (v. 12a); (2) a set of three antitheses, expressing the apostle’s responses to his ill-treatment (vv. 12b–13a); (3) a final metaphor of humiliation, similar in intent to the earlier “death in the arena” metaphor (v. 9), but even more extreme in expression (v. 13b).

There is nothing remarkable about the list of commonplace items. Deprivation occurs as a regular motif in such catalogues. However, in this case they stand in direct and stark contrast to the “filled, rich, and reigning” Corinthians (v. 8). Hunger and thirst “up to this very hour” are set over against their “already” being satiated. Dressed “in rags” (cf. RSV, “ill-clad”) appears as “nakedness” in later letters (2 Cor. 11:27; Rom. 8:35), where in both instances it means to be inadequately clothed; here it is the obvious opposite of “already being rich.” The final two items might seem to be out of order, since “homeless” belongs to the first three while ill-treatment picks up another theme altogether. But these are the two that are expanded on in what follows (vv. 12–13a), in chiastic order. Hence he next lists “brutally treated,” which will be addressed again in the antitheses that follow (vv. 12b–13a). The word literally means “to strike with the fist.” Here it seems to denote mistreatment in general, although it may also include bodily harm, since the list in the next letter (2 Cor. 11:23–29) explicitly includes both bodily blows and words of a more general nature expressing mistreatment. Finally, he lists “homelessness,” which in particular reminds them of the itinerant nature of the missionaries, who thus declare that they have no permanent dwelling here (cf. Heb. 11:13–16). Brutal treatment and homelessness hardly describe those who have already come to reign.

The sixth item, “we work hard with our own hands,” seems out of place, since it does not fit the same category of “hardship” as the others. It obviously indicates that he had not yet begun to reign! But it is probably included here for further reasons. At least as early as the mission to Thessalonica, what was originally a necessity had developed into a studied expression of his mission (cf. 1 Thess. 2:9; 4:11; 2 Thess. 3:6–13). We know from the present letter (9:4–18) and from the next one (2 Cor. 11:9; 12:13–17) that “working with his hands” was not only his practice in Corinth, but had become a point of contention between him and them (see on 9:4–18). Thus he lists it here as part of his “apostolic hardships” to let them know that his “depriving” them of the privilege of helping him was first of all in keeping with his overall stance as a disciple of the Crucified One.

The next three antitheses (vv. 12b–13a) go beyond the mere cataloguing of hardships to express his response to ill-treatment. One wonders whether this is not his way of indirectly indicating to the Corinthians, not only his response to what they have been doing to him, but also the kind of responses that they too need to learn. In any case, these are clear reflections of the teaching of Jesus, and as such anticipate the “imitation of Christ” motif in the next paragraph. The first one, “when we are cursed, we bless,” is a direct echo both of the teaching (Luke 6:28) and example of Jesus (Luke 23:34). This ethical theme recurs in Paul (1 Thess. 5:15; Rom. 12:17). It is perhaps of some significance that the verb translated “curse” appears in its noun form (“slanderer”) in the next issue to be dealt with, as one of the kinds of behavior that is to result in dissociation from a “brother” who persists in it (5:11). Very likely this was happening to Paul himself in this church. The second antithesis, “when we are persecuted, we endure it,” is not found in Jesus’ teaching, but again mirrors his example, especially in the trial and crucifixion. The third one, “when we are slandered, we answer kindly,” is similar to the first, but with a change of language. The verb translated “we answer kindly” is Paul’s common one for urging, or appealing to, the churches for obedience (cf. 1:10; 4:16). It is a word with a broad range of meanings, and following “when we are slandered” may certainly mean something close to “conciliate” (RSV). The NEB, however, rendered it “we humbly make our appeal,” which in the present context may be closer to Paul’s intent. Some of them are “slandering” him, but he is herewith “humbly making his appeal” to them to desist and follow Christ.

Finally, he concludes with the most unflattering of metaphors, indicating the world’s reaction to this way of living. We who follow Christ in these ways, Paul says, do not receive the accolades of the worldly wise. To the contrary, we are to them “the scum of the earth, the garbage (refuse) of the world,” This translation is probably very close to Paul’s intent. The two words, which are nearly synonymous, refer to the “off-scouring” that is removed in the process of cleansing, either sweepings from the floor (perikatharmata) or dirt removed from the body (peripsēma). Both words, therefore, came to be used metaphorically for anything that is contemptible. However, on the basis of the use of perikatharmata in Prov. 21:18 (“a ransom for the righteous”) and some late references to peripsēma as a technical term for one of the “unfortunates” of society who was offered to the gods to ward off some calamity, many interpreters have seen in these words a veiled reference to Paul’s sufferings as being a kind of “sacrifice”; that is, as one of the “dregs,” he is in his weaknesses a kind of “scapegoat” for the world (Col. 1:24 is often brought in as an example). Although this view has some attraction, especially as a further elaboration of the sentence that concluded the previous paragraph (v. 9), the lexical evidence is not as strong as its proponents would make it out to be, and the ordinary usage to refer to what is contemptible fits the context without the need for expiatory overtones.

Paul’s point is singular. In contrast to the Corinthians, who are “filled, rich, ruling, wise, powerful, honored,” he and his fellow apostles look far more like their Lord, who fits well the picture of Isaiah’s Suffering Servant (53:2b–3): “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces, he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.” Thus a series of contrasts that began with the apostles as those condemned to die in the arena as a spectacle before the whole universe concludes on the same note (lit.): “as the scum of the world we have become, the offscourings of all people, right up to this moment.” Not a pretty picture, but with powerful imagery this catalogue carries to its fitting conclusion the theme of the folly of God as wiser than merely human wisdom.

Finally, this catalogue is not merely rhetoric for Paul. Although stated rhetorically, it fits well his theology—in two ways. First, as noted before, Paul was thoroughly eschatological. That did not mean that he could handle suffering because he expected the imminent return of Christ, and therefore imminent relief. Rather, for him it meant absolute certainty about the future, which God had set in motion through the resurrection of Jesus and which completely determined his present existence. The tribulations catalogued here belong to the present age, which has already been judged by God and therefore has no hold on him. These things are simply not worth comparing with the glory that awaits. For Paul everything is seen in light of that glory (2 Cor. 4:16–17).

Second, Paul took seriously that his sufferings and weaknesses were a genuine participation in Christ himself. For him discipleship entailed fellowship in the sufferings of Christ (Rom. 8:17; Phil. 3:10); but that did not mean that one must suffer in order to be a genuine disciple. His own lot, and that of so many with him, entailed great suffering as the direct result of belonging to Christ. So much was this so that he considered it the norm (cf. 1 Thess. 3:3; Phil. 1:29). But this norm was first of all theologically predicated—on the “great reversal” that God had already effected through the cross. Thus for Paul discipleship meant “sharing in the sufferings of Christ,” not in its expiatory sense but in its imitatio sense (v. 16)—being in the world as Christ was in the world. Christ was really like this; those who would follow him must expect that they, too, will be like this.

This is an admittedly difficult text to hear well in the contemporary church, especially in Western cultures. In fact one feels a certain sense of personal dissonance commenting on it while sitting at a word-processor surrounded by books and other modern conveniences. The rhetorical questions at the beginning (v. 7) come through loud and clear. They still have their powerfully disarming effect, no matter who one is or in what circumstances. Life, all of life, is a gift; and it is all the more so for one who knows the Giver: “For out of His infinite riches in Jesus, He giveth and giveth and giveth again.” But what do we do with the rhetoric and irony of the second paragraph (vv. 8–13)? Some would easily dismiss it as rhetoric; others simply read it and leave it in the first century (Paul may have been like that, but so what?); still others read it, but are greatly puzzled as to how it might speak to them. How does one avoid either guilt, on the one hand, because we are not like that, or a martyr complex, on the other, in which one loves to suffer because he/she does it so well?

Two observations might be made: (1) We need to become more aware of the Corinthian side of this text than we tend to. That is, we try desperately to identify with Paul, when in fact we are probably much more like the Corinthians than any of us dare admit. We are rich, well-filled, etc.; and all too often that blinds us to our desperate needs. Between Paul’s and the Corinthians’ views of ministry “there can be little doubt which conception . . . corresponds more closely to the Lord’s command (e.g. Mark viii.34f.).” (2) Perhaps if we were truly more like our Lord, standing more often in opposition to the status quo with its worldly wisdom and more often in favor of justice, we too would know more about what it means to be scum in the eyes of the world’s “beautiful” or “powerful” people. In any case, we greatly need to recapture Paul’s eschatological perspective so that neither wealth nor want tyrannizes us.

14I am writing this not to shame you but to warn you as my dear children. 15Even if you had ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers, for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel. 16Therefore I urge you to imitate me. 17For this reason I have sent to you Timothy, my son whom I love, who is faithful in the Lord. He will remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I teach everywhere in every church.

18Some of you have become arrogant, as if I were not coming to you. 19But I will come to you very soon, if the Lord is willing, and then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have. 20For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. 21What do you prefer? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline, or shall I come in love and with a gentle spirit?

The argument that began a long while back (1:10) is now finished—but Paul is not. The most delicate issue still remains: In light of all that has been said, how is he to reestablish his authority over them? True, the letter itself, and its argumentation, is an expression of authority; nonetheless, since his status seems to have been called into question (see on 1:1; 4:3; 9:1–3)—and, as we have argued, is probably a part of the strife itself—he needs to address the matter directly. But how will he be able to do so without losing the force of the argument to this point? Typically, with another change of metaphors.

The imagery of father and children has all the needed ingredients. It continues the important motif of his having founded the church (cf. 3:6 and 10); and the inherent authority of the father/child relationship allows him alternately to “admonish” (v. 14), to “urge” behavioral change (vv. 16–17), and, if all else fails, to threaten discipline (vv. 18–21).

What becomes transparent in this final appeal is that for Paul “right thinking” simply is not enough. The gospel must result in appropiate behavior as well. Thus he exhorts them to “imitate” him (v. 16), which means to return to his “way of life in Christ Jesus” (v. 17). This is the reason for sending Timothy (v. 17); this explains his own coming to them in the near future (vv. 18–21); and, of course, this underlies the reason for the letter—not only what has been said, but also what will yet be said. This paragraph, therefore, brings chapters 1–4 to a fitting conclusion and at the same time prepares them for what is coming next.

14 In light of the irony and sarcasm of the preceding paragraph, how can Paul now deny that he was intending to “shame” them? The very fact of this demurrer is evidence that he realized they should have been ashamed; they would seem beyond hope if they were not. But that was not the reason for what has preceded. A moment will come when their behavior will be so distressing to him that he will openly admit to trying to shame them into Christian sanity (6:5; cf. 15:34). But for now the purpose behind his writing “this” has been “to warn you as my dear children.”

The verb translated “to warn” is a Pauline word in the NT. “Admonish” probably catches the present nuance a little better. It has the primary connotation of trying to have a corrective influence on someone, an “admonition that is designed to correct while not provoking or embittering.” Such correction may include warning, but it also implies counsel and appeal. It is a fitting word for the imagery “as my dear children.” This imagery, which is especially conciliatory after what has just been said, had a long history in Judaism, where it often depicted the relationship of a teacher to his disciple(s). The term “disciples,” however, never appears in Paul’s letters. The people in his churches are his “children” because they are his converts (v. 15; Phlm. 10); and because they are his children in this sense, he can exhort and encourage (1 Thess. 2:11), or chide (2 Cor. 6:13; 12:14; Gal. 4:19), or appeal, as here.

15 Having called them his “dear children,” Paul proceeds to make use of this imagery in two ways: first, in this first sentence, to reestablish his unique, and therefore authoritative, relationship to them as their founder; second, in the follow-up sentence (vv. 16–17), to urge them to conform their behavior to the “father’s” example. In this first instance, he not only reminds them that he is their father—because he gave them birth “in Christ Jesus . . . through the gospel”—but also emphasizes that his relationship to them is unique in this regard, for he is their only father. This latter point is made first, in unusually hyperbolic language: “Even though you may end up having countless thousands of guardians in Christ, at least you do not have many fathers.” The “guardian,” to be distinguished from a “teacher,” was ordinarily a trusted slave to whom a father turned over his children (usually sons), whom the guardian was to conduct to and from school and whose conduct in general he was to oversee. This is not intended to be a putdown of their other teachers, of whom Paul has thus far spoken favorably. Rather, the metaphor intends simply to distinguish his own relationship to them from that of all others, including of course Apollos and Peter. But it also includes those within their community who are currently exercising influence, not to mention all others who ever would. Paul’s unique relationship to them was that of a “father,” and that gave him a special authority over and responsibility toward them. With this language, therefore, he is both reasserting his authority and appealing to their loyalty, which had obviously eroded in this church.

To explain this point, Paul adds: “for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel.” This first of all elaborates on the words “not many fathers.” But the emphasis lies on the more significant relationship brought about by their “birth,” namely that they are “in Christ Jesus.” Paul’s concern from beginning to end is the gospel. That is why he can move so easily from the conclusion of the preceding paragraph (vv. 11–13) to this passage, without losing stride. Everything has been said and done for Christ Jesus. He has “fathered” them so that they might be in Christ Jesus. He has sent Timothy, who is also his son in the Lord, so that they might learn to walk in Christ Jesus (v. 17). This is the point of everything for Paul, and the other details of the argument must never obscure for the later reader that singular passion of his. The means of their birth “into Christ Jesus,” as always, is “through the gospel.” This is how the whole argument began (1:17); with these words it is being brought full circle. The content of the gospel, of course, is what was argued at the beginning against their worldly wisdom (1:18–31).

16 This clause now takes the father-child imagery a step further, and in so doing enunciates the point of the entire paragraph. Since they have but one father, Paul, who gave them birth in Christ Jesus through the gospel, “therefore I urge you to imitate me.” The picture is one of a father who has instructed his children in proper behavior by his own example. They are to be “like father, like children.” The immediate context for this exhortation is the tribulation list that has just preceded (vv. 11–13), in which Paul describes his own life and ministry in terms consonant with the gospel of a crucified Messiah. It therefore functions as one more item in the long argument that has preceded (1:10–4:13), which again appeals to the servant nature of discipleship over against their “boasting” and worldly wisdom. However, by implication, especially from what is said further in the next sentences (v. 17), the concern is now also being raised to the much broader level of their behavior in general, as it is reflected throughout the rest of the letter.

The language “imitate me” has considerable significance also for the larger question of Pauline ethical instruction. The lack of specific references to the teaching of Jesus in the Pauline letters has been an ongoing puzzle for NT scholarship, the best solution to which lies with this concept. That Paul was long on behavioral concerns (ethics is the proper theological category) is writ large in his letters. He is never satisfied simply to change people’s thinking. That is obviously important because the one (right behavior) flows out of the other (correct theology); but in his letters he never leaves them with a “theological” argument that does not have its corresponding parenesis (ethical instruction). It is therefore impossible to imagine that he did not do the same when he was present with the young converts in these newly formed Christian communities. Indeed, a straightforward sentence in his earliest preserved letter (1 Thess. 4:1) makes it clear that he did. But what shape did that instruction take? Here is where the teaching of Jesus and the example of the missionary coalesce. Later in the present letter (11:1) Paul says as much: They are to follow him as he follows Christ, which in that case most likely refers both to the example and the teaching of Christ. Thus Paul’s actual ethical instruction as it appears in his Epistles rarely uses the language of Jesus as it is recorded in the Gospels, but on every page it reflects his example and his teaching, as we shall have occasion to note throughout (cf. 4:12). It may seem somewhat prosaic to add that such an exhortation probably tells us far more about the apostle’s own ethical life than we could have ever picked up from a biographer.

17 This passionate concern over their behavior, and especially that they follow his example, is now posited as the reason for Paul’s having sent Timothy to them. The reason for this visit is easier to determine than the event itself, which receives its first mention here. “For this reason I have sent to you Timothy.” Although the verb could be an epistolary aorist, and therefore have a present sense, as in the original NIV, this is much more likely an event that had already taken place, and Paul simply cannot be sure which event will occur first at the Corinthians’ end of things. Two items support this supposition: (1) the fact that Timothy is not mentioned in the salutation (1:1), which makes it improbable in the highest degree that he was still with Paul while he was writing the letter; and (2) the suppositional nature of the reference at the end of the letter (16:10, q.v.), which makes it unlikely that Timothy is the bearer of our letter. Nothing more is known of this mission by Timothy apart from these two somewhat oblique references.

The description of Timothy is especially remarkable, since he would have been so well known to the Corinthians. He was with Paul during at least some of the mission to that city; and they would also have known that he had been something of a “trouble-shooter” for Paul. Why then this description? The implication of what is said at the end of the letter (16:10–11) is that Paul is not certain about the kind of reception Timothy might have. If the Corinthians have been “examining” and rejecting Paul, what might they do to his younger companion? The present sentence implies that Timothy is going in Paul’s stead, and therefore that he is to be regarded by them as though Paul himself were present among them. Thus Paul reminds them that Timothy, as they are (v. 14), is “my son whom I love.” As such he bears family resemblance “in the Lord,” that is, he can be counted on to walk in the ways of his spiritual father. This is especially brought out in the word “faithful,” the one requirement of the Lord’s servants (v. 2). Paul’s point, then, is not to inform the Corinthians about someone they already know, but to reinforce Timothy’s own relationship to Paul so that they will pay attention to what Timothy says.

Timothy’s singular task is to “remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus,” so that they might “imitate” Paul in his own discipleship. The word translated “way of life” is literally “ways” (pl.) and implies both behavior and teaching, which in Paul are intimately bound together. The sending of Timothy for such a task indicates the significance Paul placed on his own presence to guide or correct the community, as the need may be. In light of his inability to be present at the moment, he did the next best thing; he sent Timothy to be there in his place. But now that the Corinthians have written to him and Chloe’s people have filled out the picture for him as to the real situation in Corinth, he in turn writes to them—and expects the letter also to take the place of his presence. Given the nature of the aberrations in Corinth, it is important, as he does regularly in this letter, to remind them that what he and Timothy have taught them is in keeping with what is taught in the church universally, at least in all the Pauline churches. This is another gentle nudge to remind them that they, not he, are embarking on a maverick course.

18 In the context of his own anticipated “coming,” Paul concludes the long section (begun in 1:10) by sounding a warning directly toward the troublemakers in the community. The words “some of you have become arrogant” indicate at least two things: First, the trouble that Paul has been having comes from within the community itself, not from outside agitators. The verb is identical to that used earlier (v. 6), where some are “puffed up” for Apollos over against Paul. This sentence verifies what we have argued right along, that the problem is not simply internal division because they are “playing favorites” with their leaders. Some in the community are decidedly anti-Paul.

Second, although the entire community has been infected, probably in varying degrees, the instigators of the trouble are a smaller group among them. It is noteworthy that at the end of this long argument, carried on against the entire community indiscriminately, Paul should finally zero in on these people in particular. As noted earlier, they were probably in view in several references throughout the argument (2:15; 3:12–15, 17, 18; 4:3, 6–7). The problem, of course, is that they have had considerable influence on the entire community, so that the majority, it seems likely from the tenor of the argument throughout, are on the side of these malcontents, or at least are being influenced by them. But at the end of the argument Paul singles out the ringleaders and threatens them with his own coming. These are the people who have disdained both Paul’s authority and his theology. To the degree that the community as a whole has tolerated (or adopted) so much unchristian behavior as the result of this sub-Christian theology, they too are at fault. Hence the letter is addressed to the church; but continually, as here, it evidences tension between the “some” and the whole (see on 1:26). This tension is especially important for the understanding of the three matters that follow immediately (chaps. 5 and 6), not to mention the rest of the letter.

The precise nuance of the qualifying clause “as if I were not coming to you” lacks certainty. It could mean that he had previously communicated that he would come, but was delayed for some reason (cf. 1 Thess. 2:17–3:5), and this is now being held against him. More likely, his failure to return after some years had caused some of them to treat him with disdain, “as if I were not coming [back] to you [at all].” His failure to return had perhaps increased in their minds the comparison with the itinerant philosopher; his own lack of wisdom and eloquence (from their perspective) and failure to return combine to give both him and his gospel a poor showing.

19–20 Because the sending of Timothy and this letter might have the force of playing right into the hands of the “arrogant,” Paul quickly affirms his own plans to return to Corinth. The details of this plan are given at the end of the letter (16:5–9). That passage also indicates that “very soon” is a relative term. He does intend to come, and it will be “without delay,” which here must mean as soon as it is possible for him to do so. The emphasis is on the certainty of the visit, not its immediacy. In any case, all such plans are contingent on “if the Lord is willing” (cf. 16:7; Jas. 4:15). Paul’s previous experiences of promising a return but having “Satan hinder” him (1 Thess. 2:18), plus his own untoward circumstances in Ephesus (15:31–32; 16:9b), have made him properly cautious. He plans to come; but his plans are always subject to the divine will.

The reason for the emphasis on the certainty (from his present perspective) of his coming is expressed in the last clause: “And then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have.” Hidden in this translation are two expressions that tie this final section to everything that has preceded. First, “how these arrogant people are talking” is probably a bit too free a rendering of “the logos of those who are puffed up.” Logos might have referred simply to “how they are talking,” if it were not contrasted to dynamis (“power”) and qualified by “those who are puffed up.” They are “puffed up” against Paul (v. 6) partly because he lacks significant logos (“word, speech”; see esp. 1:17 and 2:1–5). But in contrast to the logos characterized by wisdom that they demand of him, he has already reminded them of his real logos (“preaching”), which was not “with persuasion of wisdom” but was accompanied by the dynamis of God, i.e., by the powerful work of the Spirit (cf. 2:4–5). Now he threatens the arrogant. When he returns, will they have merely logos, or will they also be able to demonstrate the dynamis of God in their worldly wisdom? They claim to have the Spirit; will they evidence what for Paul is the crucial matter, namely the powerful, dynamic presence of the Spirit among them to save and to sanctify (cf. 5:1–5)? Obviously he has little fear of the outcome of such a confrontation!

Some have expressed concern that Paul appears to be undoing what he has been arguing earlier (esp. 1:18–2:5 and 3:5–4:13), about the servant nature of his gospel and his own ministry. But that is a false fear, and misses the point of this text. The gospel of Christ crucified in all of its apparent weakness is nonetheless the power of God unto salvation for those who believe. Paul is not challenging the arrogant, therefore, on their grounds, but on his own. What their present stance lacks is the true power of the Spirit, which gives people birth to new life in Christ (v. 15), which can change people’s lives—can “take the poor lost sinner, lift him from the miry clay and set him free,” as the gospel song has it.

That this is the nature of the challenge he sets before the “puffed up” is confirmed by the explanatory word that follows (v. 20): “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of logos but of dynamis.” The real action is not where they are currently trying to place it, in what is only human wisdom that “boasts” in lowly humans. What Paul is concerned about is “the kingdom of God.” This is one of the rare occurrences in Paul of this term that dominates the ministry and teaching of Jesus. But the very casual way in which it here appears indicates that it was a regular part of his own understanding of the gospel. In most instances in Paul the term refers to the consummation of the kingdom at the coming of Christ (cf., e.g., 6:9–10; 15:50); but this passage, along with one in Romans (14:17), makes it certain that for him the kingdom was “now” as well as “not yet.” The kingdom that has already been inaugurated by the resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Spirit is characterized by the power of the Spirit. Here is the line of ultimate demarcation between their view of spirituality and Paul’s. They were living in the Spirit as though the future had dawned in some measure of fullness; hence they were above the weaknesses that characterized Paul’s life and ministry. Paul, in contrast, lived in the kinds of weaknesses that characterized his Lord, but through those weaknesses the power and grace of God were still at work in the world bringing people to a salvation that put them currently in God’s kingdom (cf. Col. 1:13) and assured them of that same kingdom as their inheritance (6:9–10).

21 With one further use of the father-child metaphor, Paul ties the preceding challenge (vv. 18–20) to its preceding appeal (vv. 14–17). But the tone is now less conciliatory. Being reminded by what he has just said about the opposition of “some” to him, he concludes with the threat of discipline—which the church is in no danger of exercising among themselves, as what immediately follows attests! It is arguable that this threat is directed especially against the “arrogant” (vv. 18–20). But that would miss the function of this final sentence as a lead-in to the arguments that follow, especially the two that follow immediately (5:1–13 and 6:1–11). What is remarkable about both of these next passages, as we shall see, is that the heavy guns are aimed in each case at the community itself, not at the wrongdoers. That seems to be sure evidence of the pervasive influence of the “some who are arrogant” in their midst (v. 18). It probably also indicates—as we have argued concerning this section in general and this final paragraph in particular—that Paul’s own apostleship, his capacity to speak prophetically among them, comprises a key point of tension between him and the Corinthians, both the ringleaders and the community as a whole that has been influenced by them.

“What do you prefer?” he asks. “Shall I come to you with a rod?” Must I come as a father who has to mete out discipline? Or will you allow this letter and Timothy’s coming to serve as the proper inducement to correcting your behavior? In that case, then, he may come the way a father would prefer, “in love and with a gentle spirit.” Love, of course, is what must control all Christian conduct. One should not make too much of the fact that it seems to be set in contrast to coming with a rod of discipline. Paul is simply continuing the father-child metaphor; his contrasts relate to the manner of his coming, not the motive, which would express love in either case. The “gentle spirit” (lit. “spirit of gentleness”) reflects the picture given in the list that concludes the present paragraph (vv. 11–13). The word “gentleness” also echoes the teaching of Jesus, who described himself as “gentle [and humble] in heart” (Matt. 11:29; cf. 2 Cor. 10:1) and pronounced God’s congratulatory blessing on those who are likewise (Matt. 5:5). As such it stands again in stark contrast to the arrogance of the Corinthian malcontents. The phrase could mean “the Spirit who brings gentleness,” but here that would seem to ask the word pneuma to carry too much weight. In Paul, however, “the thought of [the Spirit] is latent in every reference to the ‘spirit’ of a Christian [person]” (cf. 5:3–4 and 14:14–15). Thus, although the phrase in one sense is simply a further expression of the metaphor, it is so as a reflection of our Lord himself, whose earthly life of “gentleness” was lived out in the power of the Spirit.

With these words the long argument that began in 1:10 is concluded. Even though at times Paul seems to be weaving in and out of several topics, the concern throughout is singular: to stop a current fascination with “wisdom” on the part of the Corinthians, which has allowed them not only to “boast,” but to stand over against Paul and his gospel, and thus to miss out on what God was doing—redemption through a crucified Messiah. With a variety of turns to the argument, he sets forth his gospel over against their “wisdom” and tries to reshape their understanding of ministry and church. At the end he has finally also reasserted his authority over them, but even here he concludes by using paternal imagery, not apostolic authority—a father correcting recalcitrant children, not an apostle wielding divine authority. The clear implication is that they have no choice but to give heed to what he is saying. Their behavior, as well as their theology, needs both correction and redirection. From here he will address some other items that have been made known to him before he turns at last to respond to their letter to him (7:1).

The changes of tone in this passage reveal some of the real tensions that continue to exist in Christian ministry. How to be prophetic without being harsh or implying that one is above the sins of others. How to get people to change their behavior to conform to the gospel when they think too highly of themselves. There is no easy answer, as this passage reveals. But one called to minister in the church must ever strive to do it; calling people to repentance is part of the task, as long as the preacher is constantly repentant as well.

Perhaps the greater difficulty for most people in ministry is with the words “Imitate me.” These words surely heighten the responsibility that Christians have toward new converts universally. Perhaps our ability to put “the Book” in their hands has been partly responsible for our unfortunately too frequent apology that they should do as we say, not as we do. When the basic way of learning ethical instruction is by example, the obedience factor on the part of the “instructor” is bound to increase! May God give his people grace and courage so to do.

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