2 Corinthians 7:1 - Homilies By C. Lipscomb

"Having therefore these promises," which the apostle had just mentioned ( 2 Corinthians 6:16-18 ), what were the Corinthians expected to be? "Sons and daughters" of the Father, God in Christ. But the condition was, "Be ye separate, touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive you." There was a character involved ("sons and daughters"); there was something to be done; then "I will receive you." St. Paul is specific in his appeal: "Let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness [defilement] of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God." The enlarged heart, of which he had been speaking and would soon speak again, has a tender voice, addressing them as "dearly beloved." Nothing magisterial appears; he is one of them—"Let us cleanse ourselves;" nor has he any doubt of their ability to do this thing. Separation from old associations, changes in customs and habits, call for firm resolution and self-denial; but he is well assured that God makes no promise without giving ample strength for the accepting party to comply with the terms offered. If the promises embraced every good connected with their relation to God as a Father, then they must be like God in Christ; they were to entertain no views of God, except as God in Christ, but were to reverence, love, serve him in this one single and complete relationship. The ground, motive, impulse of action, were to spring from this consideration—God in Christ as a Father. If so, the righteousness of Christ was not only to be the reason of their justification before the law of rectitude, but they were also to have that righteousness as a property of personal character. By nature they were far gone from righteousness; they were defiled, born in sin; grace had already been communicated to renew their evil character; he had written to them as "washed, sanctified, justified," in the "name" of Christ, and by "the Spirit of our God." As yet the work was only begun. Much was to be done. Sinful tendencies were in them which had never come under the eye of consciousness. Enemies lurked within and without, of whom they were unaware. Imperfect as they and he were, they must go on to perfection. Strength consisted in putting forth strength, to be stronger. First of all, this perfection was to be sought by purifying themselves from evil. What an amount of corruption still remained was seen in the fact of the filthiness in the flesh and spirit. Each part of our complex nature was vitiated, and each combined with the other in opposing the progress necessary to attain holiness. There were vices of the animal man. There were vices of the moral man. And there were vices resulting from the union of the two, so that a thorough and complete cleansing was required. "All filthiness;" no matter of what class or kind, hereditary or acquired, local as respected the wickedness of Corinth, or general as belonging to the human family, the wrong doing among you from the Judaizers, from the free thinkers, from all your ambitious partisanships,—"cleanse" yourselves from "all filthiness," whether of the "flesh" or the "spirit." This was the negative side of a great and imperative duty, not all, but much, and very much, since, until this were done, they could take no direct steps towards perfection. Observe now that gross bodily sins were not the only lusts. Tempers and dispositions were just as urgent as passions and appetites in seeking unlawful enjoyments. Reflect on this point. "The spirit in us lusteth to envy." Inordinate affections led to transgression. Nay, they often excited the body to wicked indulgences. Physical organs are frequently torpid; they are aroused by images in the intellect, and stimulated by an impure imagination; and, furthermore, after these organs, because of age or over gratification, have little or no originating force, and are well nigh worn out, the recollections of past pleasures kindle the expiring embers into a flame. Thus, indeed, depravity assumes its most licentious forms. For it is not the animal man that is the chief or the most dangerous factor in this sort of iniquity. The intellectual and moral man descends into corporeal abuses, and then it is these temptations are strongest. In many of these sins there is an element of sentiment supplied by an unholy imagination, which makes them far more tyrannical and debauching than they would be otherwise. And hence it is not the beastly possibility in man that is the greatest danger, but the Satanic agency brought to bear on the body by means of the spirit. It is the devil of the spirit that is the devil of the body. A terrible conjunction this, and yet it is not a common spectacle. Ordinarily the incipient stage of vice is a bodily evil merely. It is a matter of blood and nerves. Not such does it remain long. Satan knows his citadel, and hastens to its occupancy. While it does continue, a man may be reasoned with; he is open to shame, conscience may be reached, and concurrent motives made operative on his feelings, but when physical vice allies itself with spirit, men "glory in their shame," and are "taken captive by Satan at his will." In the final outcome there is but one will, and it is Satan's will. Much more than this cleansing from the "filthiness of the flesh and spirit" is necessary, if "these promises" are to be fully realized. Therefore he adds, "perfecting holiness in the fear of God." Here we have the positive side of that experience which is demanded of those who are the "sons and daughters" of God in Christ. It is inward holiness. Under the Law, beasts were clean and unclean; things, vessels, places, were externally holy; emblems and symbols of purity abounded; manners, customs, domestic and national usages, were so ordered as to impress on the senses the difference between good and evil. Under the gospel, spiritual holiness is demanded. The circumcision is of the heart, not of the flesh; the sanitary idea of the human body, so frequently set forth in the Old Testament, is changed into that of the body as the temple of the Holy Ghost; and hence, no sooner does the Lord Jesus begin to unfold the constitution of the new kingdom in the sermon on the mount, than he speaks directly to the heart. Righteousness must exceed the righteousness of scribes and Pharisees. Impure thoughts are forbidden. Passions that have no outward voice utter their sinfulness in the ear of God; and feelings that escape not into visible acts are realities in the light of eternity. Inasmuch as the cleansing was a purification of body and spirit, St. Paul argues that the sanctification, begun in regeneration, was to continue, body and spirit sharing together the Spirit's influence. Neither the one nor the other was to be lost sight of; neither part of the work was to be carried on in a way detrimental to perfect unity; neither was to be exaggerated at the expense of the other. But as body and spirit had been redeemed by Christ's blood, so were both to be hallowed by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. Throughout St. Paul's Epistles there run these two leading ideas—the sanctification of body and of spirit and if, at times, the idea of the former is prominent, and then, at other times, the idea of the latter, we must recollect that this variation was necessary to the full presentation of his subject. Great truths are not to be vividly seen except in great moods, and great moods are not habitual, but occasional. Now, this mode of displaying his subject by a rotation of. its aspects exposes the apostle to misconception. The ascetic takes him in one mood of thought, dominant at the moment, because of the nature of his argument. The mystic takes him in another. And they both do him injustice, the ascetic by laying an undue stress on bodily mortifications, the mystic by extravagance in spiritual abstractions. St. Paul is always true to his theology. He never loses his balance, never exalts spirit at the expense of body, never forgets that body is mated with spirit under an economy of permanent neutrality. Hence the argument for inward holiness, that cleansing of spirit and flesh which proceeds from the Holy Ghost in the conscience and heart, and works from the centre and seat of vitality through all the organs of life. It is growing holiness. Growth is the law of existence. The body grows until it attains its physical development, say from twenty-one to twenty-five years of age in men, and then another and much higher growth sets in, that of intellectual and moral adaptiveness to the mind, whereby the nerves, the ganglia, the brains, are brought into closer union with thought, volition, sensibility, But it is in religious life that growth is most perceptible—a growth in the fear of God, a filial and tender fear, that is jealous of its sense of sonship, and ever watchful lest it grieve the witnessing Spirit. There is an increasing delight in the discharge of duty, in taking up the daily cross, in practising self-denial, and especially in a clearer view of the ground and reason of self-denial. How the Scriptures grow upon us, the exercises of the closet, the Holy Communion, the fellowship of Christians! And , as we advance, we feel more and more the evil of sin as it is in itself. "Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight." This psalm, the roost profoundly heart searching and personal of the psalms, is nevertheless most representative of that sense of sin which forgets all else in the thought of an offended God. In that bitterest hour of David's life, his home, other homes, a nation's homes, involved in his terrible transgression, there is the one overwhelming reflection, " Against thee !" The growing Christian sees the innate quality of sin, its deep-seated hold, its presence in the life blood of his old nature, and learns from thence to perfect holiness, by realizing, as far as may be, the holiness of God. "By studying the character of Christ and imitating his example, this Divine holiness defines itself to his mind and engages his affections. "Looking unto Jesus" is the secret of his growth. He looks to him as the "Author" of his faith; how long ago it was! How feeble then! What gracious forbearance! The bruised reed not broken, the smoking flax not quenched! And the "Author" is the "Finisher;" for he is "the same yesterday, and today, and forever." Law changes into love, and love advances from one degree of strength and beauty to another, from one relation of life to another, from one victory to a victory still greater, the holy ideal rising before him and assuming new glory, and yet, as it retreats to a loftier height, drawing him towards itself with a stronger charm. "Blessed are the pure in heart." It is far on in the Beatitudes; but it is there, thanks to God, it is there as an attainment. The pathway to it is very clearly marked out, the successive steps, the preparatory agencies, the gradual advances, the blessedness of poverty of spirit, of mourning, of meekness, of hungering and thirsting after righteousness, of mercifulness. One may know what progress he is making towards it, and this is the great thing to be known. Milestones along the road record the onward tread and assure the pilgrim of the certain goal. "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God."—L.

2 Corinthians 7:2-7 - Appeal for affectionate relations between himself and the Corinthians; sorrow and consolation.

The rendering of 2 Corinthians 7:2 , Revised Version, is full of vigour, "Open your hearts to us: we wronged no man, we corrupted no man, we took advantage of no man." Room in their hearts for whom? Room for him who had violated no rights, led no one astray, acted fraudulently in nothing towards any person, so that, he challenges their confidence to the full. But had he not done this before, and that very earnestly? Had he not done it again and again? Yes; but his enemies had their headquarters at Corinth; they were untiring, ever inventing new scandals, ever increasing in zealotry, for his overthrow. Now, it is a matter of interest to understand St. Paul's motive in this frequent and vehement defence of himself. From the outset his position had been singular. Not one of the original twelve who had "companied" with the Lord Jesus, a converted persecutor and blasphemer, an apostle called to an exceptional apostleship, and placed in the forefront of that battle which was to liberate Christianity from Jewish thraldom, and preserve it from Gentile corruptions. It was inevitable that the man and the apostle should be subjected to a most critical and severe inquisition. Yet how wonderfully was this overruled! Only think of the spiritual biography that has grown out of this painful necessity of his attitude before the Church. Somewhat of this kind of writing we have in the Old Testament, particularly in the Book of Job, in the Psalms, and in Ecclesiastes, but nothing as to depth, variety, profundity, compass of experience, such as we have in St. Paul's Epistles. In the latter we see the Christian consciousness in its early realizations, and that too in all its important aspects. For what is there in the struggles of the "new creature" with the "old Adam"? What is there in outward conflict we have not here in exactness of detail? No finer illustration of this could be given than the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. Was he simply giving his spiritual history? Nay, indeed, but writing a typical biography of the human heart under the training of the Holy Ghost. This is its distinctive merit—the portraiture of the human soul forming and shaping in the image of Christ for eternal glory. Such a mirror was needed. Of what avail a standard of doctrine without a standard of experience? Of what utility a knowledge of duties, and yet entire ignorance of the legitimate results of precepts carried into practice? From his pen we have Christianity as a system of truths; from the same pen, Christianity in personal consciousness; and the two are so wrought together and interblended, that we are no more at a loss to understand what Christianity is as an inspiration of life than a revelation of Divine wisdom. Follow the man in this chapter. Do you admire manly boldness? There it is in that second verse. Are you, touched by delicacy and tenderness? You have them in the third verse: "I say it not to condemn you: for I have said before, that ye are in our hearts to die together and live together." Is this commonplace sentiment? Is this the language, the air, the spirit of a persecuted hero of the world? Match it if you can. " To die together and live together"— this would be poetry, if it were not that rarer thing, the most impassioned and exalted prose. "In our hearts;" there they abide to die and live together. If he had written to them, it was not to condemn, but to save them, Inclined to find fault and harshly criminate? Far from him a censorious temper, "Great is my boldness of speech towards you;" and why bold? "Great is my glorying on your behalf;" and why glory? The glad spirit, free once more from its oppressive burden, cannot repress its exultation. " My boldness," " my glorying;" just before " we " and " us " and " our ," the personal intensity bursting forth. "I am filled with comfort, I overflow with joy in all our affliction." Such a heart authenticates itself instantly to our confidence and love. To doubt its truthfulness would be treachery to our own instincts. We all love a fervent lover. However cold and constrained our temperament, there is something divinely contagious in a spirit like St. Paul's; and, for the sake of humanity, "great" is our "glorying" on his "behalf." If, there, we find him in the next verses (5-7) referring to his individual solicitudes, we may be sure that this has its place in the development of Christian doctrine, going on in the history of the Church. Instead of being an insight into the private heart of the apostle only, it is likewise a most trustworthy record of religious experience, to which we may come for instruction and help when burdened by cares and anxieties. Unable to remain in Troas, because of his deep concern to hear from Corinth, he passed into Macedonia; but there was no relief from the pressure. "We were troubled on every side," His whole nature shared the suffering of the mind, his "flesh had no rest," and the sorrow reached such an extent that he sums it up in the condensed expressions, "without were fightings, within were fears." Things had put on their darkest look. Yet in that very hour consolation was near by. Titus came with good tidings from Corinth, and, in his opportune arrival, St. Paul sees the good hand of God. The statement is given in an emphatic form. At first it is he "who comforteth the lowly;" and then even God "comforteth us by the coming of Titus;" and how happy Titus himself was! The visit to the Corinthians had been a blessing to his young friend, and this added much to his joy, for he participated in "the consolation wherewith he was comforted in you." Grace to others is often grace, and the richest grace, to our own souls. And in this instance we can easily understand how a man with St. Paul's quick sympathies entered into the experience of Titus. A delicate task had been assigned to his youthful companion, and it had been managed with success. Added to his intense pleasure growing out of the favourable change at Corinth was the gratification from the skill and efficiency of Titus's mission. One pictures the scene of the meeting, the narration, the questions asked and answered, the frequent interruptions of the story by the sudden outbreaks of the listener's emotion, the happy exclamations, and the surprise increasing as the detail of incidents progressed to the completion of the history. Had not St. Paul a valuable helper now? Was not God giving him a coworker precious to his heart? Could he not see the future Titus, the same who was afterwards to be associated so closely with him, and to whom he would write a pastoral letter? Those were gracious hours, and he might well say, "I rejoiced the more," since he was not only greatly cheered by the "earnest desire," the "mourning," the "fervent mind" of the Corinthian brethren towards him, but was confirmed in the impression that Titus was to be a valuable auxiliary in the work now enlarging on his hands, and daily getting to be more complicated.—L.

2 Corinthians 7:8-16 - True repentance and its effects; ministry of Titus.

There are reactions from our highest moods. There are reactions from our wisest deeds. Nor can it be otherwise under the present constitution of our nature. That St. Paul should have had these reactions was perfectly natural, the more so as his temperament made him liable, in an unusual degree, to their occurrence. If they did not appear in his writings we should be surprised, nor could their absence be explained but on the supposition that he was an exception in this respect to the ordinary laws of mind, and particularly to those laws as seen in men of his class. Some persons think it very strange that he should say, "Though I made you sorry with a letter, I do not repent, though I did repent." What was his inspiration, they ask, if he could "repent" of writing his former Epistle to the Corinthians? Whatever he meant by "repent , " he did not mean moral self-reproach, nor indeed any permanent state of mind, but simply a transient emotional condition, due probably to excess of nervous sensibility. His inspiration from the Holy Ghost was the inspiration of a man. It did not set aside his temperament. It was in perfect harmony with the characteristics of his intellect, and quite likely intensified those characteristics as related to his physical peculiarities. Who has not had these seasons of experience in which things that were very clear a few days before have been suddenly darkened? Judgments were then formed, committals made, promises given, that now seem unwise or even rash; and bow gladly would we undo what was done!—and that too in matters which were entered on after long and earnest deliberation, and which proved in the sequel to be eminently fortunate. Are the arguments that led us to certain conclusions less valid now than then? No; the arguments are the same, but nerves and brain are not in the same state, not in the same vigorous tension, and, consequently, we do not see the truth and the grounds of the truth as we did when we were in fuller possession of ourselves. The logic of nerves and brain is a very wayward and fitful thing, and a very different thing from the logic of the intellect. Pascal says, in the 'Pensees,' "To have a series of proofs incessantly before the mind is beyond our power." Now, in the instance under review, St. Paul would have been more or less than man not to have undergone precisely this temporary reaction. Ill health, an unusual combination of exciting circumstances, dangers of an extraordinary sort threatening the Church, a new and most promising sphere of labour and by far the greatest that had opened in his ministry overcast with sudden gloom, Titus still absent, suspense wearing upon a fortitude taxed already to the uttermost; what a lack of the human and of the genuine manliness of the human, if he had felt no uneasiness, no misgivings, no rebound! It was not weakness, but weakness struggling into strength, that led him to say, "I did repent." Let us take comfort from the apostle's human nature and the grace manifested in its infirmities. Companionship in weakness aspiring to get the victory is very precious to honest souls. Men are never wanting to teach us the ideals of life. What is needed far more is to have traced in a distinct manner the progress of the soul towards perfection. Who in this respect can compare with the Apostle Paul? Who has delineated the Christian consciousness in all its various moods, in all its alternations, in its baffled endeavours, in its victorious strength, and done it in such a natural way that the lowliest heart feels at home in his fellowship and finds no language of its own so much its own as the words in which he tells how he sorrowed and how he rejoiced? Lest they should misunderstand his joy by supposing that he had any pleasure in their pain, he explains (verse 9) why he was happy. They had "sorrowed to repentance." Instructed by the doctrinal truths he had unfolded in the First Epistle, moved by his entreaties, made conscious of their delinquencies, made ashamed of their gross inattention to discipline, they had repented of their backslidings and reformed their evil doings. A "godly sorrow" had they shown, and could anything "godly" be deplored? Least of all, could a "godly sorrow" over envy and jealousy, over strife and schismatic partisanships, over vices tolerated in the bosom of the Church—could such a sorrow be regretted? It was "godly," indeed, for it had wrought out its true nature and was known by its fruits. Of course he gave it a doctrinal form, and, for all time, thus reads one of the most vital and solemn of all Christian verities: "Godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of." Well might he claim that they had received "damage in nothing." It was all gain, infinite gain. Notice the development of the thought. A true repentance is from God. Christ said that the Holy Spirit should come to rebuke "the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment." It is not our idea of sin, but God's idea, that enables us to realize what sin is, and this proceeds from the Spirit. Think of it as we may, study its consequences, feel its enormity as far as we can, look at the paradise it blighted, read its records on the earth, picture the hell it has created; this is not that sense of the guilt of sin which leads to repentance. Not what sin is in our sight, but what it is in God's sight, determines the estimate of the penitent. And just in the degree that this initial process is from the illumination and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, in that same degree is the work genuine and profound. Large allowance must be made for individuality of character. Modes of thinking, habits of feeling, education and circumstances, must be taken into consideration, since men are very thoroughly personal when God comes to dear with their souls. Nevertheless, the truth cannot be stated too strongly, that repentance is a "godly sorrow" only so far as the Holy Ghost is concerned in the work. And, further, it is salutary. It works no "damage." Now, at this point, the apostle confesses that he had been anxious, and certainly there was ground for anxiety. To rebuke men for their sins is the most difficult and the most hazardous of all the functions devolved on a minister of the gospel. Happy the minister who can say that he has not done "damage," some time in his career, in this particular. But in the present case all had turned out well. The censure, the exhortation, the personal lovingness, he had put into his letter, had blended in one gracious influence, so that conscience had witnessed to conscience, heart to heart, energy on their part to decision and resoluteness on his part, and a result most blessed to him, to Titus, to the Church, had been effected. It was not the sorrow of the world that "worketh death." Instead of that, it had wrought life, a renewed and most hopeful life, a change so glorious that it would never be repented of. But he would particularize. If the repentance had been "godly," and therefore without "damage," he would show them the full meaning of these worsts. "Behold this selfsame thing." He would arouse their attention and concentrate thought on this manifestation of God's mercy. To see it they must look within. What a transformation! Lately so careless, so insensible, so puffed up, even the Holy Communion shockingly abused; what save a "godly sorrow" could bring about a radical change? It was a sorrow to humble them, not to "damage" them. It was not the sorrow of the world, mortifying to pride and vanity, intensifying to selfishness, driving to desperation, and arming the soul in deadlier hostility to goodness. The proof of all this was at hand. Carefulness; activity and diligence in ferreting out evils and extirpating them. Clearing of themselves; anxiety to get rid of the stain on their Church character, and stand fair with the apostle. Indignation; not only against the incestuous man, but that feeling of self-vexation which arises when we see the folly and evil of our conduct. Fear; lest a heavier punishment should come from God than that already experienced. Longing; fervent desire to do better. Zeal; industrious effort in discharging their duties, and especially such duties as concerned Church discipline. Avenging the wrong done by punishment so as to evince their sincerity of amendment. Yea; repeated in every item, specified that each element of the sentence might maintain its proper degree of force. Finally, his hearty commendation; in every respect, approving themselves to be right minded in this matter. A word of justification for himself follows. Not for the sake of him who had done the wrong, nor for his sake who had suffered the wrong, had he written, but that their earnest care in his behalf might be manifested And his apostleship honoured. In the name of God he had called them to repentance, and they had promptly hearkened to the Divine message. Once more the power of the gospel had been vindicated, and "therefore we have been comforted." Throughout the affair he had been intensely personal, but had he been actuated by selfishness, or had any element of selfishness mixed with his motives, this personal intensity could not have assumed the form presented in his conduct. Yet in that hour of gladness there was an uppermost joy. A beautiful touch of nature it is when he says that he "joyed the more exceedingly" on account of his young associate Titus, "because his spirit was refreshed by you all." The long-continued trouble seems over now. The unrest, the fightings without and the fears within, Ephesus and Troas and Macedonia, pass out of presence, and the only spectacle left in the horizon of vision is Paul the apostle standing firmly on the historic soil he has won for Christ, with Titus at his side, in whose blooming spring time his eye reads the harvest not far off. "O ye Corinthians, our heart is enlarged." Can he express his gratification too often, too freely? Once again, "I rejoice therefore that I have confidence in you in all things."—L.