2 Corinthians 12

Here Paul introduces the thorn in the flesh that afflicted him in the wake of his heavenly experience. We today might picture a small rosebush thorn, but the term used (Gk. skolops) could designate objects as large as a stake on which one might be impaled. The thorn generated more than mere annoyance; it generated agony corresponding to the glory of what Paul had seen in the highest heaven. Though the thorn was (presumably) introduced into Paul’s life fourteen years prior, verses 8–10 give every indication that it is still a present reality and thus represents a prolonged, sustained pain. But what was the thorn? Speculation does us no good. We do not know. And that is just as well, lest those whose afflictions are of a different nature than Paul’s feel disqualified from applying his teaching to their own hearts. Probably Paul was intentionally vague, not only for maximal application but also to prevent spotlighting his own life any more than necessary. Paul’s point is not the content of the thorn but its intent.

And what is that intent? Paul’s humility: “to keep me from becoming conceited.” The verb here (Gk. hyperairōmai) means to be lifted up. The thorn’s purpose is to deflate the certainty that Paul would quietly become puffed up over his indescribable experience of heaven. And who would not, without a thorn to burst that bubble? And so the Lord lovingly, gently, sovereignly afflicts his dear apostle. Or was it the Lord? Does the text not ascribe the thorn to Satan or one of his emissaries? Indeed. The thorn was given to “harass” Paul — surely the work of the Devil. Yet surrounding this desire to harass is a purpose to humble Paul, mentioned twice, once at the beginning of the verse and once at the end. Satan’s purpose is sandwiched within God’s. In a mysterious overlay of divine sovereignty and evil, even satanic activity falls within the scope of God’s sovereign purposes. God is not the author of evil in such a way that renders him morally culpable. He is incapable of doing anything that is morally tainted. Yet even the evilest act of human history was ordained by God (Acts 2:23; 4:27–28). So too with lesser evils.

So Paul did in 2 Corinthians, 12:8 what any of us would do: he asked for the thorn to be removed. Just as the “third” heaven (2 Cor. 12:2) likely refers to the heaven of heavens, the heart of heaven, so “three times” likely means Paul pleaded with the Lord to exhaustion. He did not make the request more than twice but fewer than four times. Rather, it was a complete, comprehensive, full request. He did not ask timidly or passingly. The very verb he uses, “I pleaded” (using parakaleō), not simply “I asked,” already makes this clear. That Paul pled with the Lord to have the thorn removed is further proof that the Lord was the one providentially behind the giving of the thorn.

Paul saw two ways forward. The Lord could (1) remove the thorn, and Paul could get on with life and ministry, or (2) leave the thorn, and Paul would be forever crippled and slowed in life and ministry. The Lord responded with yet a third option: leave the thorn, but give Paul grace. And for Paul’s life and ministry, this would net out as taking Paul places in terms of divine power he could never have attained otherwise. This is God’s secret strategy for his people. This is the surprising way into power from on high.

God’s “grace” here is not primarily objective, forgiving grace (as in, say, Rom. 3:24). Rather, Paul is using “grace” more broadly as shorthand for the presence of God—sustaining, empowering, calming, supporting, comforting, emboldening, satisfying. “My grace is sufficient for you” means “I am sufficient for you.” Why, then, use the word “grace”? Because the Lord sought to reassure Paul that he need not earn or deserve God’s presence. It is of grace. This grace is further clarified by the next clause: “for my power is made perfect in weakness.” It is a grace that channels divine power. The presence of God will sustain Paul; the power of God will strengthen him. What we must not miss is that it is not Paul’s strength but God’s. Paul’s contribution is weakness. But this is not a concession; it is precisely what God needs. This is the mystery, the wonder, the glory, of apostolic Christianity: our weakness attracts, not repels, God’s own power. Our lowness and incapacities, which we naturally fear and flee, are precisely where God loves to dwell.