Reading the book of 2 Corinthians felt different. It was
emotional. Raw. It was like Paul had pulled back the curtain and let us see his
heart—bruised, exhausted, but still beating for God’s people.
This letter came after some drama. There had been tension
between Paul and the Corinthians. They had questioned his authority. Some had
fallen for flashy new teachers. Others were just tired of being corrected. And
Paul? He was hurt. You could feel it in his tone. This was not the Paul from
Romans—bold and theological. This was Paul the spiritual father, trying to hold
it together while loving a church that had broken his heart.
I felt that. I have been there—trying to love people who
misunderstand you, who talk about you, who flip-flop on their support. It is
hard. And yet Paul did not give up. He opened himself up even more. He reminded
them of everything he had endured for the gospel—beatings, shipwrecks,
sleepless nights, pressure from all sides. Not to boast, but to say, “I have
been here. I have stayed. I have not walked away.”
What really moved me was how Paul kept pointing them back to
the grace and comfort of God. He started the letter by calling God the “Father
of mercies and God of all comfort.” That stuck with me. Especially because Paul
wrote those words while carrying deep sorrow. He was not preaching from a
mountaintop—he was testifying from the valley.
And then there was his transparency about weakness. That hit
different. In a world that rewards strength, Paul bragged about his thorns. He
said God's power shows up best when we are weak. I needed that reminder. I have
spent so much time trying to look strong, to hold everything together. But Paul
showed that it is okay to not be okay. That God actually meets us in the broken
places and does His best work there.
He also gave practical wisdom about giving, generosity, and
integrity in ministry. But even then, it was not about rules. It was about
heart. About love. About trust. About living with sincerity and godly
character.
Reading this letter felt like getting a second chance. Like
having a hard conversation, and instead of walking away hurt, you both walk
away healed. Paul was asking them to make room in their hearts again—and I
think he was also modeling what it looks like to forgive, to persevere, and to
keep loving, even when it hurts.
2 Corinthians reminded me that ministry is costly. That
relationships are messy. That being misunderstood does not mean you stop
showing up. And most of all, it reminded me that God is close to the crushed,
strong in the weak, and glorified through scars we often try to hide.