The apostle Paul’s relationship with the Corinthian church had been deliberately and systematically sabotaged by the false teachers’ lies. Paul spent the first seven chapters of 2 Corinthians replying point by point to various things he knew had been said against him in Corinth. Interspersed in those chapters are a few doctrinal sections, but for the most part, those chapters are intensely personal, highly emotional, and thoroughly pastoral. Paul was seeking to repair the damaged relationship.
By the end of chapter 7, he seemed to have thoroughly unburdened himself. He closed that section with these words: “Therefore I rejoice that I have confidence in you in everything” (2 Corinthians 7:16). It reads like a great, sweeping, comprehensive sigh of relief.
Then for two chapters, he turned to the subject of the Corinthians’ charity toward the church in Jerusalem. The saints in Judea were suffering greatly under the Roman persecution. The Macedonian churches, under Paul’s leadership, had generously organized an offering to help meet the financial needs of their brethren in Judea (2 Corinthians 8:1–7). The Corinthians had offered to participate (vv. 10–11). Paul spent chapters 8–9 graciously encouraging them to fulfill that commitment. In those two chapters he was gentle, encouraging, and very mild in tone.
But then, as Paul began the closing section of his epistle (chapters 10–13), his whole demeanor seemed to change in an abrupt, marked, and surprising way. He became firm and militant. He included several pointed rebukes addressed directly and specifically to naive and disobedient people in the Corinthian church who had gullibly jumped on the false teachers’ bandwagon (11:4, 19–21; 12:11; 13:2–3). For those reading the epistle who may have thought he was finished dealing with the threat of the false apostles, it turned out he had saved the harshest reproofs of all for the end.
In portions of this closing section of the epistle, Paul’s language is very severe. Here is Paul at his most passionate, contending fiercely against those who were deceptively undermining his leadership.
At the beginning of the epistle, Paul had taken great care to make clear that his self-defense was not motivated by pride or egotism. He continued to make that clear, remarking again and again that every hint of boasting seemed utterly repugnant to him (10:8, 13–16; 11:10, 16–18, 30; 12:1, 5–6, 9, 11). And yet, no matter how humble Paul was, he would not blithely turn the Corinthians over to purveyors of lies. He was meek and modest, but he was by no means indifferent.
An apathetic leader is a contradiction in terms. No true leader will ever be uncaring. In fact, this is another fundamental principle of all leadership: A leader is passionate.
The person who is detached and indifferent is no true leader. All leaders must have passion, and spiritual leaders especially must be driven by an intense passion for the truth, as well as a deep, fervent, and abiding love for Christ. It is impossible to maintain such affections and be passive or unemotional.
In his classic work titled Spiritual Leadership, Oswald Sanders even included anger in his list of qualifications for leadership. He wrote:
This sounds like a rather strange qualification for leadership. In another context it could be quoted as a disqualifying factor. But was this quality not present in the life of the supreme Leader? “Jesus looked on them with anger” (John 2:15–17). Righteous wrath is no less noble than love, since both coexist in God. Each necessitates the other. It was Jesus’ love for the man with the withered hand that aroused His anger against those who would deny him healing (Mark 3:5). It was His love for His Father, and zeal for His glory, that kindled His anger against the mercenary traders who had turned His house of prayer for all nations into a cave of robbers (Matthew 21:13).
Great leaders who have turned the tide in days of national and spiritual declension have been men who could get angry at the injustices and abuses which dishonor God and enslave men. 1
Other strong affections as well—including joy, gladness, sorrow, compassion, fear, and love—are equally essential in leadership. The person who is cold, unfeeling, aloof, or apathetic can never be a truly effective leader.
Leadership Principle #20
A LEADER IS PASSIONATE.
Human passions, of course, pose certain hazards. They are subject to abuse and misuse. They can severely cloud the rational faculties. Leaders, while never devoid of feeling or intensity, must harness their passions rather than being harnessed by them. Our zeal must be focused, carefully governed, and used for godly purposes. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:23). Godly self-control involves not only the mortification of sinful lusts (Colossians 3:5), but also a degree of restraint in the expression of legitimate passions. Solomon wrote, “Whoever has no rule over his own spirit is like a city broken down, without walls” (Proverbs 25:28); and “He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city” (16:32).
Nonetheless, there is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance . . . a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace” (Ecclesiastes 3:4, 8). The time for war had come against the lies of the false apostles, and Paul did not attempt to conceal his earnest passion as he concluded this second epistle to the church at Corinth. He even began that closing section by introducing a warfare motif:
Now I, Paul, myself am pleading with you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ—who in presence am lowly among you, but being absent am bold toward you. But I beg you that when I am present I may not be bold with that confidence by which I intend to be bold against some, who think of us as if we walked according to the flesh. For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled. (2 Corinthians 10:1–6)
In all the warfare the apostle endured—including various riots, stonings, and beatings from which he barely escaped with his life—nothing was more difficult or more relentless than the warfare he waged for the preservation of the Corinthian church. Little did Paul know during those first twenty months or so when he launched his ministry in Corinth that he would ultimately have to engage in a years-long battle just to preserve the truth of the gospel in that church.
But false teachers had come in almost as soon as Paul left. They had directly attacked Paul’s leadership. And they achieved a shocking degree of success in turning that church against their founder and spiritual father.
Paul fought back. His epistles to the Corinthians pleaded for their repentance and expressed his deep love and abiding commitment to them (2 Corinthians 2:1–4). The biblical record seems to suggest that most in Corinth did repent of their disloyalty. That is why Paul’s heart was turned from despair to joy when Titus reported to him that the Corinthians had received his severe letter (the noncanonical rebuke he had apparently sent after 1 Corinthians but before 2 Corinthians) with sorrow and repentance (7:6–16). That was a major turning point and a great victory.
Nonetheless, it is significant that Paul’s immediate response was to write 2 Corinthians—another long letter filled with pleas for repentance, gentle admonitions, words of correction, and even strong rebukes. The conflict was not yet over. Paul knew what every good leader knows: Rebellion always sows seeds for more rebellion.
We see this vividly in the Old Testament account of Korah’s rebellion. Korah had stirred up the Israelites against Moses’ leadership. They demanded that Moses step down. God himself judged Korah and his followers in the most vivid and immediate way: The ground opened up and swallowed them alive (Numbers 16:23–33). The people of Israel were eyewitnesses of what happened to Korah and his followers. They saw the ground miraculously open up, literally consume the rebels, and then close over them. They also saw fire from heaven incinerate 250 of Korah’s closest followers (v. 35).
You might think such a dramatic judgment would put an end to rebellion in Israel forever. Far from it. The fires were still smoking and the ground was still settling when the next major rebellion broke out. And this time, it was even worse. The entire nation was swept up in it. Scripture says, “On the next day all the congregation of the children of Israel complained against Moses and Aaron, saying, ‘You have killed the people of the LORD’” (v. 41, emphasis added). They blamed Moses for what had happened to Korah! God responded by sending a plague. Verse 49 says, “Those who died in the plague were fourteen thousand seven hundred, besides those who died in the Korah incident.”
Paul knew that the false apostles’ insurgency in Corinth had only been pushed underground, and it wasn’t very deep. Or, to switch metaphors, Paul knew there were still some glowing embers from the fires of accusation against him. Somewhere in the church at Corinth, perhaps in some obscure corner, those smoldering sparks were ready to be fanned into flame at the first opportunity. The false teachers were still out there. Sympathies for the false teachers were apparently still being harbored by some in the congregation. The rebellion and the false teaching had merely gone into hiding, waiting for an opportune moment to break into the open again.
Paul further understood that the effects of slander are always long-lived. Once lies about you have been circulated, it is extremely difficult to clear your name. It’s a lot like trying to recover dandelion seeds after they have been thrown to the wind. The lies against Paul had been devised with great cleverness and subtlety. They were mixed with just enough valid facts (cf. 2 Corinthians 10:9–10) to make them believable. They were disseminated by people who were convincingly disguised as truth messengers—“angel[s] of light” (11:13–14).
Paul knew the purveyors of those lies would continue the war they had begun against him. Even if forced underground, the false teachers would simply adopt guerrilla tactics and carry on the fight. They would in effect become spiritual terrorists.
Therefore Paul pulled no punches in this closing section of 2 Corinthians. He wanted to leave the Corinthians with some final words that revealed the depth of his passion. He wanted them to know that he regarded the conflict with the false teachers as nothing less than warfare. He wanted to warn anyone who might still be harboring sympathies for the bogus apostles that he was now coming to fulfill his promise of a personal visit (12:14; 13:1). He is not absolutely certain what to expect on his arrival in Corinth: “I fear lest, when I come, I shall not find you such as I wish” (12:20). But when he came, he would be armed for conflict if necessary. If rebellious people and false teachers were still causing problems when he got there, it was going to be all-out war (13:2).
Remember, Paul was their spiritual father (1 Corinthians 4:15). Therefore he spoke to them sternly, like a displeased parent. These closing chapters are an extended ultimatum to let them know that he was quite serious about all the things he had dealt with theretofore. His fatherly patience had been exhausted over these matters. He was prepared, if necessary, to execute some fatherly discipline. “I write to those who have sinned before, and to all the rest, that if I come again I will not spare” (13:2). He is prepared to “punish all disobedience” (10:6). So this was a fatherly warning to the Corinthians.
More critically, he had to remove the threat of the false apostles. He wanted them to know that he was coming back with weapons of warfare that were divinely powerful for pulling down their stronghold of lies. He planned to search out and destroy everything that exalted itself against the knowledge of God.
That was why he moved from the calm and tender pleadings of chapters 1–9 to strong, stern, authoritative words.
Titus would be delivering 2 Corinthians on Paul’s behalf (8:16–24). Sometime shortly after they received the letter, Paul himself would come for his third visit. He was already preparing for the journey (12:14). So they would have some time after reading the epistle to get ready for the apostle’s coming. They needed to use that time to deal with the issues Paul raised in the epistle. Those who still might be on the fence needed to repent.
In effect, the closing four chapters of 2 Corinthians echo and expand on what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 4:21: “What do you want? Shall I come to you with a rod, or in love and a spirit of gentleness?” It was up to the Corinthians. And if things were already that urgent when Paul wrote his first epistle, they were more so now.
Paul had three groups of people in mind as he penned this portion of his letter. There were the faithful Corinthians, who had now reaffirmed their commitment to Paul. There were some fence-sitters, who apparently retained sympathies with the false apostles and wanted to remain undecided. And then there were the accusers themselves. Paul knew they still posed a great threat.
Paul’s response to all three groups reveals the depth and range of his passion. He addressed the faithful ones with gentle, heartfelt compassion. He cautioned the fence-sitters sternly and with boldness. And he militantly put his accusers on notice that they were not safe. All three of these are seen clearly in those first 6 verses of 2 Corinthians 10.
Paul was about to employ some powerful and militant language in verses 3–6. So in order to put that in its proper context, he began with an expression of tender, heartfelt compassion: “Now I, Paul, myself am pleading with you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ” (v. 1).
Paul knew, of course, that being misrepresented, slandered, reviled, persecuted, and wrongfully accused is an inevitable part of being a Christian. We must expect to suffer unjustly. Our lives confront the culture we live in. We live as aliens in the world, and it should not surprise us when the world is hostile toward us (1 John 3:13). We were called for that purpose. In this world we will have tribulation (John 16:33). It goes with the territory.
But remember that Paul’s authority had been placed in dispute by the false teachers. His right to speak for God had been questioned. His apostolic credentials had been brought under attack. This was not merely a personal offense against Paul; it was a full-on assault against truth itself.
Paul had already thoroughly answered the challenge to his apostolic credentials. He had established the fact that he needed no letters of commendation to justify wielding the power of apostolic leadership over them (2 Corinthians 3:1). So here he began by clearly and forcefully putting himself in the place of authority. What he was about to say would be said with his full authority as an apostle of Jesus Christ—“I, Paul, myself.” He was invoking the authority of his office.
And yet, even as he did so, it was with deliberate gentleness and meekness (“pleading with you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ”). He had no desire for conflict. He got no satisfaction out of combat. He was not motivated by venom or vitriol or anger. He recognized that the Corinthians had been deceived and misled, and he had reason to believe most of them were repentant. So he assured them that what he was about to say came from a heart filled with compassion, meekness, and tenderness toward them. He was certainly not looking for a war with the church in Corinth.
“Meekness” is a humble attitude that expresses itself in the patient endurance of offenses. Paul was free from all bitterness. He had no thirst for vengeance. “Gentleness” is virtually a synonym. It implies leniency and long-suffering. Paul had no malice or ill will toward the Corinthians. Rather, he was saying that the attitude of his heart toward them was a faithful mirror of Christ’s own compassion (“the meekness and gentleness of Christ”).
Meekness is not weakness; it is power under control. After all, no one was more powerful than Christ; yet He said, “I am gentle and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). Paul likewise was keeping his apostolic authority in check. He was not looking for an opportunity to brandish his authority like a club. It was not in his heart to punish the Corinthians. He would do so if he had to, but that would be his last choice.
Jesus Himself exemplified that kind of patience, and all Christians are commanded to follow His example. Peter wrote:
This is commendable, if because of conscience toward God one endures grief, suffering wrongfully. For what credit is it if, when you are beaten for your faults, you take it patiently? But when you do good and suffer, if you take it patiently, this is commendable before God. For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow His steps: “Who committed no sin, nor was deceit found in His mouth”; who, when He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but committed Himself to Him who judges righteously. (1 Peter 2:19–23)
No one in the world ever suffered more unjustly than Christ. He was sinless, totally innocent, completely without deceit. And yet when He was reviled, He did not return the taunts.
How merciful was Christ? Isaiah spoke of Him prophetically, saying, “A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench” (Isaiah 42:3; cf. Matthew 12:20).
What does that mean? The reed was a stiff, canelike plant that grew near shallow water. Shepherds would whittle reeds into simple musical pipes. When a reed pipe became damaged, or “bruised,” the shepherd would snap it in two, discard it, and make a new one. “Smoking flax” spoke of a burned-out lamp wick, worthless for giving light. Both represent something useless, something anyone would normally just throw away. But Christ’s ministry was to redeem people who were otherwise worthless, not destroy and discard them. Such compassion set the spirit for His entire earthly mission (cf. Luke 9:51–56; 19:10; John 8:10–11). “God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved” (John 3:17; cf. John 12:47).
Remember that even Jesus’ most scathing denunciation—a blistering diatribe against the religious leaders of Jerusalem in Matthew 23—ends with Christ weeping over Jerusalem (v. 37). Compassion colored everything He did.
Paul said, in effect, “I come to you with the meekness and gentleness of Christ. I am willing to be patient. I want to be gentle and lenient. I have no anger or malice toward you.” The Corinthians knew that was an expression of his true heart, because they knew the apostle so well.
But Paul’s enemies had also observed his meekness, and they had already tried to put a negative spin on it. They claimed Paul seemed gentle only because he lacked real courage. He pretended to be bold from a distance. But in person he was gutless. Face-to-face, he was a wimp. As we observed in the previous chapter, they said, “His letters . . . are weighty and powerful, but his bodily presence is weak” (2 Corinthians 10:10).
They were saying, in effect, that he was like a dog behind the gate that barks its head off, but when you open the gate it runs the other direction. “Get Paul far enough away and put a pen in his hand and he becomes fierce. Bring him here and he’s weak; he lacks courage.”
They had misconstrued both his boldness and his compassion. It was a very clever accusation, because it was hard to answer by a letter. If he tried to defend his strength from a distance, they could say he made their point. If he wrote them a gentle reply, they would say that showed they were right about his “weakness.”
So instead, he acknowledged the accusation, but only in a sarcastic throwaway line. (In effect, he more or less dismissed the charge without responding to it directly in so many words.) “I, Paul . . . who in presence am lowly among you, but being absent am bold toward you” (10:1).Then he replied in a way that welded his strength and his tenderness together. He began with a clear expression of compassion, but then he immediately began to speak with a calm firmness that soon rose to a militant tone. The note of gentle sarcasm signaled the shift from compassion to firmness.
Then his attention was turned to the fence-sitters, those who had shown sympathies with the false apostles and who were, perhaps, still undecided about how to respond to Paul.
If they believed the false teachers’ lies and mistook Paul for a coward, they were about to receive a rude awakening. He was not weak. If all his compassionate overtures were rejected, he was prepared to show them how bold he could be in person: “I beg you that when I am present I may not be bold with that confidence by which I intend to be bold against some, who think of us as if we walked according to the flesh” (2 Corinthians 10:2). The New International Version translates that verse like this: “I beg you that when I come I may not have to be as bold as I expect to be toward some people who think that we live by the standards of this world.”
When Paul’s efforts at patience were exhausted, he would do whatever was necessary to defend the truth against these unrepentant, unrelenting rebels. If only confrontation would preserve the truth, Paul would not back down from it. Indeed, he said he expected that would be the case with some. If they wanted severity, they would get it.
By the way, Paul was not always meek in face-to-face situations. Remember, on one occasion, he even rebuked Peter. He did it publicly, and “to his face, because he was to be blamed” (Galatians 2:11).
The record of Paul’s personal courage fills the book of Acts, starting with chapter 13. He boldly stood against courts, councils, religious leaders, mobs, governors, kings, and especially false teachers. He was by no means weak or cowardly. That would have violated one of the cardinal principles of leadership: A leader is courageous.
No one who lacks the courage of basic convictions can possibly be an effective leader. People don’t follow cowards. At times, the leader’s courage is expressed in confrontation. That is the case here.
We have seen Paul’s courage in action throughout our study. Now it comes into the center of our focus, as he replied to this ridiculous false allegation that he was too timid to be firm in face-to-face situations.
As we saw in the previous chapter, Paul’s enemies had also complained that he had physical weaknesses and no oratorical elegance. Paul had simply acknowledged the truth of those charges. But this claim that he lacked courage was a flat-out lie. Paul exemplified fearlessness. Not once in the biblical record does he ever show an ounce of cowardice. No wonder he became indignant as he pondered how to answer this foolish accusation.
“God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind,” he told Timothy (2 Timothy 1:7). Timothy evidently struggled with a lack of bravery, because Paul frequently admonished him to be strong and not to be ashamed or timid (1:8; 2:1, 3; 1 Timothy 1:18; 6:12).
But Paul himself never showed any sign of fear or shyness. In fact, his courage moved dramatically to the forefront here in 2 Corinthians 10:2 as he answered his critics. He warned them that he fully “intend[ed] to be bold against some.” The Greek word translated “bold” is tolmao, which means “to be courageous, daring, dauntless.” It speaks of acting without fear of the consequences.
If they really wanted to see Paul’s courage, he would show it. And he would do so “with . . . confidence.” That expression translates the Greek word tharrheo, which is a close synonym for courage.
There was a clear crescendo in his tone as he wrote. He was becoming more aggressive. If the false teachers or their followers wanted a fight, he would give them a fight. “If I come again I will not spare” (13:2).
Leadership Principle #21
A LEADER IS COURAGEOUS.
At this point, Paul gave insight into the true nature of the false teachers’ accusations. They had caused people to “think of us as if we walked according to the flesh” (2 Corinthians 10:2). They were apparently claiming Paul was controlled by sinful desires. That is precisely what it means to “walk according to the flesh” (cf. Romans 8:1, 5). Paul elsewhere wrote, “The works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like” (Galatians 5:19–21). Apparently, the false apostles’ specific claim was that Paul was driven by the love of money (2 Corinthians 11:9–13; 12:13–19)—or perhaps even filthier lusts. They wanted the Corinthians to think Paul was utterly disqualified from spiritual leadership (13:6–7).
This takes us to the very heart of the conspiracy against Paul. Here is what lay at the very core of all the falsehoods. Every accusation, every insinuation, and every defamation they had tried to smear Paul with was merely a way to buttress this suspicion that he was a fraud who was morally bankrupt and driven by fleshly lusts. Paul’s enemies had deliberately planted that suspicion. It had no basis whatsoever in any facts.
Paul had already defended himself against that lie. In 1:12, you’ll recall, he practically started off the whole epistle by saying, “Our boasting is this: the testimony of our conscience that we conducted ourselves in the world in simplicity and godly sincerity.” In 7:2, he said, “We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have cheated no one.” Thus he had answered the slander without dignifying it with any explicit recognition.
But now he brings the accusation out and lays it on the table for all to see. Lest anyone imagine that he was overreacting, here is what had aroused such boldness in him. This was the real gist of the attacks on him: They had falsely portrayed Paul as a phony, mercenary, Elmer Gantry–type minister. They claimed he was motivated purely by self-interest, corrupt desires, fleshly lusts, and secret motives.
Paul didn’t want to be harsh. He was not looking for conflict. But unless the rebels who invented such wicked falsehoods repented or left before Paul arrived, it would be war. He promised.
Thus Paul’s rising intensity finally culminated in an all-out declaration of war. The leader’s compassion doesn’t cancel out his willingness to fight. His courage is equal to his passion.
Paul’s enemies had accused him of walking “according to the flesh” (2 Corinthians 10:2)—in a fleshly manner. He flatly and forcefully denied the accusation that he was morally corrupt. He also threatened to display his boldness against anyone who impugned his character in that way. Nonetheless, in verse 3, he acknowledged that there was a true sense in which he “walk[ed] in the flesh”—he was, after all, a mortal, made of human flesh. He was making a play on words. He still denied, of course, that he walked “according to the flesh” in the moral sense. But he also admitted that he was still “in the flesh” in the human sense. In other words, he wasn’t claiming to be supernatural.
And yet he was prepared to wage war in the supernatural realm. He said, “Though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ” (vv. 3–5).
This is an amazingly bold challenge to the enemies of truth. In effect, Paul was saying, “You want to go to war with me? Throw down. But let me warn you, when you look at me, all you see is a mortal man. But when we go to battle, I won’t be using human weapons. I won’t fight on your level. I won’t use conventional human weapons.” It was war on another plane. Paul fought “by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left” (2 Corinthians 6:7).
Paul knew the real battle was not merely against the human false teachers who had confused the Corinthians. It was nothing less than full-scale war against the kingdom of darkness. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). We are fighting for the preservation and proclamation of the truth. We are fighting for the honor of Jesus Christ. We are fighting for the salvation of sinners, and we are fighting for the virtue of saints.
In fact, for every good and noble effort of Christian leaders in business, politics, education, the military, or any other legitimate pursuit, there is inevitable engagement with the kingdom of darkness. Since all Christians, in whatever they do, are supposed to be engaged in the advance of Christ’s kingdom, they face opposition from the powers of evil.
Paul used the language of warfare all the time. He began and ended 1 Timothy by urging Timothy to fight the battle well: “Wage the good warfare” (1:18); “Fight the good fight of faith” (6:12). He said, “Be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet the hope of salvation” (1 Thessalonians 5:8). In 2 Timothy 2:3 he said, “Endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” As Paul himself neared the end of his own life, he wrote, “I have fought the good fight” (2 Timothy 4:7). His whole life was a spiritual war against anything and everything that opposed the truth.
You cannot fight on that level with human weapons. Carnal tools have no power whatsoever against the kingdom of darkness. The most powerful human arsenal is totally impotent against principalities and pow ers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, or against spiritual wickedness in the heavenlies. Fleshly instruments can’t fight on that level. Human weapons have no power at all against Satan. They cannot liberate souls from the kingdom of darkness. They cannot transform sinners. They cannot sanctify saints. They have no effect in the spiritual realm or the kingdom of darkness.
What did Paul mean by “carnal” weapons? Obviously, he would include every instrument used in literal human warfare. Paul wasn’t literally planning an incursion with swords and chariots into the camp of the enemy. He wasn’t actually thinking of using physical force in Corinth.
But a moment’s reflection will reveal that every type of worldly device and human invention that has ever been brought into battle against the powers of darkness is also merely a different kind of fleshly weapon. That would include human philosophy, rationalistic arguments, carnal strategy, fleshly ingenuity, human cleverness, entertainment, showmanship, and every other innovation that is supposed to augment the power of the gospel. Such strategies are in full fashion these days. But all of them are impotent weapons. They represent vain attempts to fight spiritual battles on a human level.
You can use such gimmicks to sell soup and Chevrolets. You can employ them in political campaigns or for public-relations purposes. But in spiritual warfare they are utterly useless. They’re like plastic popguns with Ping-Pong balls. They can never be truly effective against the fortresses of the evil one. Even if your job is to sell cars or food products, if you are a Christian, you are a soldier in a spiritual battle, and for that battle, you need to be skilled in the use of the right weapons.
Paul said the weapons he took to battle were “mighty in God” (2 Corinthians 10:4); “divinely powerful” (NASB). He was saying these were weapons that came from heaven—from God’s own personal arsenal. He certainly was not talking about gimmicks and novelties designed to make his message more marketable. What Paul had in mind were clearly not weapons of human invention, but divinely ordained, spiritually powerful weapons.
Why? Because the enemy is formidable and, frankly, gimmicks and human cleverness won’t do what needs to be done. We need divinely powerful weapons “for pulling down strongholds” (v. 4). The spiritual fortresses Paul was describing are impervious to fleshly weapons.
The Corinthians would have had a clear picture in their minds when Paul mentioned ”strongholds.” Just to the south of their city and towering over it was a massive mountain, a natural tower of rock more than eighteen hundred feet high, known as Acrocorinthus. On it stood an impregnable fortress, flanked by the Temple of Aphrodite. From that elevated citadel, the acropolis of Athens was visible more than forty-five miles away. The fortress atop Acrocorinthus was where the entire population of Corinth would retreat in case of an attack. From there they could easily defend themselves. They knew the strategic value of that fortress. It was a massive, high bulwark that could not easily be overthrown. In fact, it still towers over the ruins of Corinth today.
Paul said the spiritual strongholds of the powers of darkness are similar to that—except they are spiritual and supernatural. Such fortifications obviously cannot be assaulted with worldly weapons.
Notice also that Paul’s strategy was not merely to lob a few shots at the fortresses, but to demolish them. The expression “pulling down strongholds” speaks of utterly bringing them to ruin, causing them to crumble and disintegrate.
What are these fortresses? What, actually, was Paul attacking? He gave the answer very clearly in verse 5: “Casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God.” The New American Standard Bible speaks of “destroying speculations.” The King James Version says, “Casting down imaginations.” The Greek word is logismos, which signifies opinions, calculations, or reasonings. The only other place the word is found in the New Testament is in Romans 2:15, where it is translated “thoughts” and describes the process of rationalizing in order to make an excuse.
In other words, the fortresses Paul was describing are corrupt belief systems, sinister philosophies, false doctrines, evil worldviews, and every massive system of falsehood. Obviously, if we are in a battle for truth, the fortresses we need to demolish are the bastions of lies—wrong thoughts, wicked ideas, untrue opinions, immoral theories, and false religions. These are ideological forts—philosophical forts, religious forts—spiritual strongholds made of thoughts, ideas, concepts, opinions. In such ideological citadels, sinful people try to hide and fortify themselves against God and against the gospel of Christ.
Spiritual warfare as Paul described it is therefore ideological rather than mystical. Our enemies are demonic, but the warfare against them isn’t waged by commanding them, mapping their physical location, invoking magic words to subdue them, claiming authority over them, or any of the other common tactics some people usually refer to as “spiritual warfare.” We are not fighting demons in a face-to-face confrontation, or by spirit-to-spirit conversation, or with voice-to-voice communication. We attack them by tearing down their fortresses of lies.
The enemy has devised massive citadels of falsehood. We assault those ideologies. Our war is against “deceiving spirits and doctrines of demons” (1 Timothy 4:1). We wage that war by attacking the demons’ elaborately constructed systems of lies—by tearing down the fortresses, not by trying to command the spirits themselves.
In 1 Corinthians 3:19–20 the enemy fortresses are called “the wisdom of this world” and “the thoughts of the wise.” These are the various thought systems people have raised up against the knowledge of God. Romans 1 describes the course humanity has followed into sin. Although the truth of God’s existence and infinite power are clearly visible in creation (Romans 1:20), sinful humanity has turned against God, suppressed the knowledge of Him, embraced foolish and futile thoughts instead, and “exchanged the truth of God for the lie” (vv. 21–25). Every worldly ideology that opposes God, opposes Christ, and opposes the Bible is rooted in that same rebellion and spawned out of hell. That is what we wage war against. False religions. Humanistic philosophies. Secular rationalism. Those are the high things that exalt themselves against the knowledge of God (2 Corinthians 10:5). And they have to be brought down.
That brings up a crucial question: What, precisely, are our weapons? If the fortresses are constructed of “arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God” (v. 5; thoughts, concepts, opinions, ideologies, philosophies), it seems obvious that the only power that will destroy such things is the power of truth. Indeed, when the apostle Paul listed the armor of spiritual warfare in Ephesians 6:13–17, he named only one offensive weapon in the panoply: “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (v. 17). The power of God for salvation is the power of the gospel alone (Romans 1:16; cf. 1 Corinthians 1:21).
In other words, “the weapons of our warfare” are the instruments of truth. The Word of God. The gospel. Sound doctrine. The truth of Scripture.
The simple fact is that you can’t fight spiritual warfare with magic phrases and secret words. You don’t overpower demons merely by shouting at them. I don’t have anything to say to a demon anyway. I’m not interested in talking to them. Let the Lord do that (cf. Jude 9). Why would I even want to communicate with evil spirits? But I have a lot to say to people who have barricaded themselves in fortresses of demonic lies. I want to do everything I can to tear down those palaces of lies. And the only thing that equips me to do that well is the Word of God.
Leadership Principle #22
A LEADER IS DISCERNING.
Spiritual warfare is all about demolishing evil lies with the truth. Use the authority of God’s Word and the power of the gospel to give people the truth. That is what will pull down the fortresses of falsehood. That is the real nature of spiritual warfare. That is precisely what Paul described here in 2 Corinthians 10.
What does all this have to do with leadership? One of the fundamental qualifications for spiritual leadership is a knowledge of the truth, an ability to recognize lies, and skill in using the truth to refute the lies. A leader is discerning.
One of the key requirements Paul listed for elders in the church was that they have to be skilled enough with the Word of God to “be able, by sound doctrine, both to exhort and convict those who contradict” (Titus 1:9). One who is not able to engage in the spiritual warfare on this level is simply not equipped to lead well.
Furthermore, you cannot be a good leader and avoid the warfare. As Paul’s life demonstrated, the more effective you are as a leader, the more the enemy will bring the battle to you. That is the nature of leadership. We therefore cannot lead well or fight the battle well unless we learn the Scriptures and acquire skill in using God’s truth to answer lies.
Lies yield only to the truth. Rebellion ends when truth prevails. If you’re a leader who is also a Christian, you may not realize it, but you are engaged in spiritual warfare. You need to be armed. You need to know the Word of God. And you need to develop skill in using it against the lies of the evil one.