2 Corinthians 7:2

Receive us; we have wronged no man, we have corrupted no man, we have defrauded no man. I speak not this to condemn you: for I have said before, that ye are in our hearts to die and live with you. Great is my boldness of speech toward you, great is my glorying of you: I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation. For, when we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest, but we were troubled on every side; without were fightings, within were fears. Nevertheless God, that comforteth those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus; and not by his coming only, but by the consolation wherewith he was comforted in you, when he told us your earnest desire, your mourning, your fervent mind toward me; so that I rejoiced the more. (2 Corinthians 7:2–7)

A father pleads, "Make room for us in your hearts"—and discovers that God comforts the cast down through the fellowship of His people.

Paul Picks Up Where He Left Off

If you've ever read through Paul's epistles, you know he can be hard to understand. He writes run-on sentences that go on for pages, jumps from one topic to a completely different one, and then circles back four chapters later to pick up where he left off. We have a passage like that before us today.

Months ago in chapter 2, Paul was speaking about the trouble in his heart over news from Corinth and a sorrowful visit he had made. Then in chapter 2, verse 13, he changes the subject and doesn't return to it until chapter 7, verse 5, where he says, "When we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest." Five chapters separate the two thoughts. Likewise in chapter 6, verse 11, he says, "We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians, and opened wide our hearts," then detours for several verses before returning here.

So in chapter 6 he told them, "Our hearts are opened wide to you. We're not withholding our affection; you're withholding yours. Open wide your hearts." And now in chapter 7, verse 2, he picks it right back up: "Receive us."

Falsely Accused, Closed Off

Paul had been accused of many things by some within the church at Corinth. They came against his ministry, stood in opposition to what he was doing, and spoke falsely about him. As a result, some had closed their hearts toward him. That's why he pleads in chapter 6: "Open your hearts to us. We haven't withheld our affection from you; don't withhold yours from us."

He pleads as a father would with his children, because that is how he saw this church. God had called Paul to Corinth, and the Lord used him to plant the church and pastor it for eighteen months. He invested enormous energy and time in seeing them raised up. His heart was bound to them. But after he left, people came in and tainted the church's opinion of him through false accusation. Can any parents relate to children whose hearts have hardened toward them?

The Sorrowful Visit and the Journey Back

In 2 Corinthians 2, Paul recalls a visit that turned out to be a real disappointment. Have you ever visited family and left saying, "If it's going to be like that, we're just not going to do this anymore"? That's exactly what Paul went through. He left Corinth heading toward Ephesus with a heavy heart, leaving behind a sorrowful heaviness, and he carried that burden back to Ephesus.

In Acts 19 and 20, while Paul was in Ephesus, a great outcry rose against him. This happened nearly everywhere he went—revival among many, and opposition from those whose livelihoods or beliefs were threatened. In Ephesus the merchants who sold images of false gods were upset, because the gospel was transforming the city and all of Asia Minor so that people stopped buying their idols. They held what amounted to a union meeting, voted to get rid of Paul, and he was ultimately forced out of the city.

At that point Paul was planning his return to Jerusalem. There was a famine there, and the Christians were hurting badly. So Paul decided to travel back through the churches he had planted—through Macedonia in northern Greece, then down into southern Greece—taking up an offering for the believers in need. This still happens today: when there's an earthquake in Haiti or a disaster in Japan, the church gathers to help, even churches that don't agree on every jot and tittle of doctrine.

Receive Us—Make Room for Us

Paul's last visit with the Corinthians had not gone well, and now he knew he was headed back to ask for money. How would that go over? They had no Twitter or Facebook for him to gauge their mood. So as he left Ephesus for Macedonia, he sent Titus down to southern Greece to find out what was happening. Meanwhile Paul's heart was heavy. In verse 5 he says, "When I came into Macedonia, my heart was just heavy. I didn't know what was going to happen, and we hadn't heard from Titus, and we were downcast."

He admits, "I spoke very frank words to you. I wrote a letter that was very heavy." First Corinthians is almost entirely a written rebuke for the sin the church had allowed in. But, Paul says, those words were spoken in genuine openness and honesty, out of loving concern for their well-being. Parents understand this. There are times you must speak stern words and punish your children, and they respond, "You don't love me." So Paul pleads, as a father with his children: "Open wide your hearts. Receive us."

In 2 Corinthians 12, this letter exposes Paul's emotion and passion more than any of his thirteen New Testament letters. In verse 14 he writes:

Now I am coming to you for the third time, and I will not be a burden to you. I don't want what you have. I want you... children don't provide for their parents. Rather, parents provide for their children. I will very gladly spend myself and all I have for you, even though it seems that the more I love you, the less I am loved.

This indicates that some in Corinth accused him of trying to make gain of them. Paul answers, "I don't want a burden to you—I want you." The word translated receive literally means to leave a space or make room. Have you ever interacted with someone whose heart had hardened toward you—a family member, a close friend? As the Proverbs say, an offended brother is harder to win than a walled city. So Paul says, "Make room for us. Don't close yourself off."

I Have Wronged No One

"We have wronged no one. We have corrupted no one. We have defrauded no one." Reading between the lines, these are exactly the accusations leveled against Paul. His detractors called him a fraud who had wronged, corrupted, and defrauded them. Paul replies that neither he nor his co-laborers had done any of these things.

Solomon says in Proverbs 22:1, "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches." A good reputation is more desirable than great wealth. God created women with a deep desire for love and security, and men with a desire for respect and a good reputation—which is why Paul tells husbands to love their wives and wives to respect their husbands in Ephesians 5. But Paul's concern ran deeper than personal reputation. As an ambassador of Christ, what he did represented Christ. Plenty of people did not like Paul; in Acts a group would vow not to eat until he was dead. He did not want false allegations to bring reproach against the gospel.

In Philippians 1:20 Paul says Christ shall be magnified in his body, whether by life or death. His whole purpose was that God be honored. So he was far more concerned for the reputation of the gospel than for his own. He defends himself here for the cause of Christ: "We have not been unjust, not wicked, not criminal in our dealings in any way."

Did Paul Corrupt or Defraud Them?

In chapter 7, verse 1, Paul had exhorted the church, "Let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God." Paul did not say, "Do as I say, not as I do." Before following Jesus he was a Pharisee of the Pharisees, blameless under the law (Philippians 3). He sought to live above reproach—so much so that he could say, "Be followers of me, even as I am of Christ" (1 Corinthians 4 and 11). That doesn't mean he was sinlessly righteous; he failed like anyone. But by the Spirit's power he sought to live in a way that exalted the gospel. When he says, "I have wronged no one," we must ask ourselves whether we could honestly say the same—whether our coworkers and neighbors would see Christ in us, or simply lump us in with the world's verdict that the church is full of hypocrites.

He says, "We have corrupted no one." Thayer's lexicon notes that, in Jewish thinking, the temple was corrupted when anyone defiled or damaged anything in it, or when its guardians neglected their duties. The idea is that by action or inaction another is ruined. Some at Corinth accused Paul of ruining the fellowship. And consider: if you've backslidden to the point where wrongs seem right, then when someone comes and sets the wrongs right, you cry, "You're ruining everything." The Corinthians thought themselves gracious for tolerating a man openly living in adultery with his father's wife. Paul said, "No—excommunicate him until he repents." Their worship gatherings had become a free-for-all in the spiritual gifts, and Paul said, "Let all things be done decently and in order." It's not hard to imagine people calling him a spirit-quencher who ruined their good time.

"We have defrauded no one." A common accusation against ministers in our day is no different. Whenever a church announces a special offering, someone is sure to grumble, "They're always asking for money." Nothing has changed in two thousand years. Accountability is good—we should be fiscally accountable—yet Christians often complain more about how the church handles a little money than about how the government handles the vast sums we hand over. Paul says, "We've defrauded no one." Everywhere he lived he labored to meet his own needs. In 2 Corinthians 12 he uses the same word:

Some of you admit I was not a burden to you. But others still think I was sneaky and took advantage of you by trickery. But how?... Did Titus take advantage of you? No! For we have the same spirit and walk in each other's steps.

Conviction, Not Condemnation

Back in chapter 7, verse 3: "I speak this not to condemn you... you are in our hearts to die and live with you." Paul's words were convicting, the kind you don't want to read twice—but they were never meant to condemn. To condemn is to judge worthy of censure or punishment. To convict, in this context, is to call to account, to reprove, to correct a wrong and set it right. Paul says, in effect, "You've been going this way; come, let's go this way."

That is exactly what Scripture is for. In 2 Timothy 3:16, "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." It lays out what is right; when I see what's right, I'm reproved where I'm wrong; then it shows me how to be corrected; then it instructs me how to maintain rightness before God. The wonderful thing is that God's word convicts but does not condemn. It exposes error like light and shows us the right path. Have you ever read a passage alone and thought, "Anybody? Or just me?" Yes—your pastor does that, many times.

So Paul finds himself convincing the Corinthians of his love even amid chastening words. Parents know this: you sternly reprove your children for their good, and they say, "You don't love me." Hebrews 12 makes clear that a father reproves his children; the one without such correction is illegitimate, not a true son. Whom the Lord loves, He chastens. The whole structure of family—husband and wife, parent and child—is God's illustration of the relationship He desires with us. Because of sin those relationships have broken down, and the church needs to redeem them, especially since many resist the idea of God as Father because of a poor relationship with their own earthly father.

Boldness to Your Face, Pride Behind Your Back

"Great is my boldness of speech toward you, great is my glorying of you." J.B. Phillips paraphrases it beautifully: "To your face I talk with you with utter frankness; behind your back I talk about you with the deepest pride." Two thousand years later, Paul's frank writings still convict, correct, and instruct us. He tells Corinth, "I know my words seem harsh, but wherever I go, I boast about you constantly."

Then comes the line: "I am exceeding joyful in tribulation." Is Paul lying? Not the polite Christian "I'm joyful because I have to be," but exceeding joyful. James had written shortly before, "Count it all joy when you fall into diverse trials, knowing that the trying of your faith produces patience" (James 1:2–4). We joke, "Don't pray for patience," but trials come whether you pray for patience or not—it's simply part of being human. The question is how we confront them. We can miss the message, grow bitter, and complain we were dealt a bad hand; or we can recognize that in the midst of it, God is with us.

In Romans 5:3, Paul writes, "We glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope: and hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost." God has given us His indwelling Spirit as the guarantee of our inheritance. When I glory in a trial, I'm reminded of the greater thing awaiting me in heaven; the trial increases my hope. Many in our church have gone through a difficulty and come out the other side not bitter but more hopeful for heaven.

Nevertheless, God

In verse 5 Paul turns the corner back to where he left off in chapter 2:13. "For when we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest, but we were troubled on every side; without were fightings, within were fears." He had just said, "We glory in tribulations," and now he describes one. Forced out of Ephesus, headed for Macedonia, no word from Titus, no rest, sleepless nights, fightings outside, fears within. (In Acts, Luke begins using the word "we," so we know Paul was with Luke, likely in Philippi.)

And then: "Nevertheless God." What two beautiful words in the midst of a trial. When everything is falling apart—trials, sufferings, fighting, fears—nevertheless God. God is not gone. He is there with you. Remember the God we met in chapter 1, verse 3: "Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble." Verse 6: "God, that comforteth those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus."

Sometimes God allows us to find ourselves in the midst of a trial so that we come to know Him as the God of all comfort, the Father of mercies. But notice how He comforted Paul here. The origin was divine—"God comforted us"—but the instrument was tangible and human, "by the coming of Titus."

God Comforts Through His People

This matters, because in the midst of a trial we are tempted to withdraw and be alone. The enemy whispers, "Just leave me alone." But isolation is a dangerous place, because the difficulty compounds. God uses the fellowship of the body of Christ in those situations. Chapter 1 says God comforts us "that we may be able to comfort those that are in any trouble"—the instrument is other people. We sometimes expect some ethereal, intangible thing from heaven, and God can do that, but often the divine origin chooses a human instrument, and we must be careful not to reject it.

Jesus says in Matthew 18:20, "Wherever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." God is omnipresent, yet apparently He is more present, in some way I can't fully express, when the body of Christ gathers. And He comforted Paul not only by Titus's presence but, verse 7, "by the consolation wherewith he was comforted in you." The Corinthians comforted Titus; Titus came and comforted Paul. The chain of comfort flows from chapter 1: God comforts us, that we may comfort others, with the comfort we ourselves received.

The NIV says Titus "told us about your longing for me, your deep sorrow, your ardent concern for me, so that my joy was greater than ever." In the midst of a trial, Paul's joy abounded. We assume joy will never return—"this is it, I'm dead"—and yet good news is a comfort, and we have the greatest news ever.

Preach the Gospel to Yourself

The preaching of the gospel is not only for the conversion of sinners. We need the gospel every single day, in everything we go through. When you face a trial so deep it could mean physical death, the gospel is incredibly good news: the God of the universe desires close, intimate relationship with us and has made a way through the death of His Son whereby we can enjoy that relationship forever. Though we suffer in this life, we are promised to be seated with Him in heavenly places, where He will unveil the exceeding riches of His grace and kindness toward us (Ephesians 2). That news overshadows even the most severe circumstances.

There are times we must preach the gospel to ourselves and be reminded of it by others. Paul, in the midst of a severe trial, says, "My joy was greater than ever." Would the apostle lie, and would God place that lie in Scripture? Every day we are given opportunities—they're called trials—to know this not just theoretically but experientially.

In the midst of a trial we face a choice. We can turn inward, comparing ourselves to others and growing bitter. There's a phenomenon now being studied called "Facebook depression": Facebook presents a false reality where everyone posts pictures of fun, and others look on and conclude, "Everybody is always having more fun than me; my life is terrible. He has seven hundred friends; I have twenty." It's a false reality, and it turns us inward, affecting our outward focus. Or we can look upward. That's what the gospel does—it directs us heavenward.

Closing Prayer

Father, I thank You for Your great word and Your great love for us. Lord, we are in such desperate need of Your gospel constantly. You are such a good Father to us; even when we, like the church of Corinth toward Paul, harden our hearts toward You, You still plead with us. What an awesome and loving Father You are. I pray for my brothers and sisters here today, Lord—some going through difficult trials and hard times right now who need the warm embrace of Your love. And Lord, You often do that through another brother or sister who comes to sit beside us and fellowship with us. We thank You for that kind of comfort. Help us, Lord, to receive it, not to separate ourselves and hide from those You are seeking to use to minister to us. And help us to be used of You to minister to others, to step outside our comfort zone. We thank You for the gloriousness of the gospel. We praise You in Jesus' name. Amen.