II Corinthians 4:13-5:1 have the theme of the hope Christians have that enables them to endure suffering in this life.
In 4:13-15, Paul shows that the suffering endured by the apostle is part of the ministry of the gospel. The text may endow apostolic ministry with a sacramental character. 13 However, just as we have the same spirit of faith, a phrase Paul uses nowhere else that emphasizes perseverance. With an apologetic tone that is customary in II Corinthians, Paul says such a spirit is in accordance with scripture [κατὰ τὸ γεγραμμένον] —"I believed, and so I spoke." The allusion is to Psalm 116:10, which reads, "I kept my faith, even when I said, 'I am greatly afflicted.'" It may reaffirm what he said in II Corinthians 4:8a, they experience affliction but they do not crush them. He then applies the scripture to his situation in saying that we also believe, and so we speak. Psalm 115:1 of the Septuagint (LXX), which Paul cites without any modification -- "I believed, and so I spoke: Ἐπίστευσα διὸ ἐλάλησα. The second half of the Psalm describes the circumstances in which an ancient sage had spoken: "But I have been greatly humiliated ἐγὼ δὲ ἐταπεινώθηνσφόδρα." Thus, the situation of the psalmist corresponds to the experience of Paul and therefore justifies its use. The promises of God to Israel allowed the psalmist to have such confidence and expectation for the future.[1] He makes a similar point in 3:6 and 4:5, where they faithfully proclaim Christ despite fierce opposition. His point is that they proclaim Jesus Christ because of their convictions. 14 Because we know, Paul is stressing that faith is not blind obedience to the apostolic authority. Faith necessarily rests on knowledge.[2] He identifies the content of knowledge is that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with you into his presence. If Paul's suffering and the Corinthian spirit are combining to build up Christ within the faithful, this new unity will reach its fruition when all stand together in the presence of the Lord. For Jesus, the focus of faith was the God of Israel and zealous adherence to the first commandment, on which he based his summons to the kingdom. In Paul, the faith of Christians in the future salvation that fellowship with Christ guarantees rests on knowledge of the incorruptibility of the risen Lord.[3] We can also see that the specific hope of life beyond death rests on fellowship with Christ, which places it on the right basis.[4] The theme now shifts to having treasure in earthen pots. Everything, Paul insists, happens for the sake of the glory of God. 15 Yes, everything is for your sake, so that grace, as it extends to more and more people may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God. He stresses that they serve others rather than self. He said this in 4:5 as well. In this case, everything happens for the glory of God. In 4:16-7, Paul will emphasize the theme of the unseen and the eternal. 16 Therefore, we do not lose heart (ἐγκακοῦμεν). They persist in preaching the gospel. He is full of hope because he trusts God. In short, Paul refuses to "become discouraged." We must lose hope in the things that deceive in order to free ourselves to hope in the things that do not deceive. Such hope is the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.[5] Even though our outer nature (ὁ ἔξω ἡμῶν ἄνθρωπος) is wasting away, our inner nature (ὁ ἔσω ἡμῶν) is being renewed day by day. The outer nature is the life that begins in each Christian when he or she forms a believing relationship with Christ. While the life experienced by the outer nature is real, Paul also sees it as only momentary. Our days are numbered. Imperceptibly, our years pass by as we move toward our inevitable end. He now offers the contrasts of "seen" and "unseen" "temporary" and "eternal." That which we see, those hardships and troubles that assail the outer nature, are only temporary. The inner nature, out Christ-filled center, is yet unseen, hidden from the world inside the weak and troubled outer nature. The unseen is of ultimate significance to the individual. Renewal of the inner nature is by repeated acts of faith, so that they receive the life of Jesus repeatedly. Paul may have in mind what took place at baptism, and thus, Christians are to take seriously in their lives what took place at baptism.[6] 17 For this slight momentary affliction (τὸ γὰρ παραυτίκαἐλαφρὸν τῆς θλίψεως) is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory (αἰώνιον βάρος δόξης) beyond all measure (ὑπερβολὴν εἰς ὑπερβολὴν). "Affliction" is "slight," that is, insignificant, trivial, or minor -- more of a nuisance than anything else. In addition, "affliction" is "momentary," that is, fleeting, short-lived or transitory -- something that does not endure. Even more importantly, our "slight momentary affliction" is not without meaning. It serves a greater purpose, indeed, a timeless one. The end was so bright that Paul could disregard his present troubles as indicating nothing about the future. Was Paul simply incurably optimistic?
In a study published in the October 2011 issue of Nature Neuroscience, researchers at the Wellcome Trust Centre for Neuroimaging at University College London present evidence that optimistic people learn only from information that reinforces that rosy outlook. The study suggests that many of us have a form of hardwiring for optimism. What this means is that in many of us, our brains do not make pessimistic updates to what we think. Some reporters call this a “brain defect.” If so, people need the defect in order to make personal progress. The defect allows us to imagine better realities. Imagine our distant ancestors living in caves. They might still be there, dreaming of light and heat, if it were not for their ability to be optimistic and imagine a better future. Of course, individual exceptions are always there. Some of us may be among them. Yet, as a human race, this study suggests, we tilt toward optimism because, on balance, positive expectations increase our odds for survival. Without such optimism, our ancestors might never have ventured far from their tribes. They might have remained cave dwellers. We might still huddle together, dreaming of light and heat.[7] We may have some hard wiring that helps us take risks and imagine a better future. Yet, I think we can agree that the hope we find here has a different basis, even if it may meet a quite human need.
18 We look not at what one can see but at what one cannot see; for what one can see is temporary (πρόσκαιρα), but what one cannot see is eternal (αἰώνια). The "inner person" is not visible yet is of ultimate significance to the individual. The daily renewal is by repeated acts of faith, so that the believer receives the life of Jesus repeatedly. Our days are numbered. Imperceptibly, they pass by, and our years increase incrementally. Regardless of life's unpleasant finale, and despite much malevolence from many parties, he would not and could not lose hope. Moreover, as our own mortality becomes an ever-present reality, moment-by-moment thoughts of decay can begin to dominate our view of the future in such a way that hope grows faint. Yet in the face of that harsh certainty, the apostle Paul offers an exhortation that refuses to surrender to that bleak outlook.
5:1 For we know that if the earthly tent we live in (ἡ ἐπίγειος ἡμῶν οἰκία τοῦ σκήνους) is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands (a heavenly body), eternal in the heavens. Death is the ultimate destiny for all who have ever lived, now live, and will live on Earth. Yet for Paul, God has not and will not abandon us. Even though our bodies decay and we die, we will not remain homeless.
We need to incorporate aging and approaching that embraces the fullness of a human life. This would appear to be what Robert Browning had in mind when he wrote in his poem Rabbi Ben Ezra, "Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be."
I want to give you a few testimonies of hope as people faced one of the most challenging experiences of all, that of aging and death.
One day when John Quincy Adams, one of America's early presidents was 80 years of age, a friend met him on a street in Boston. "How is John Quincy Adams?" the friend inquired. "John Quincy Adams him-self is very well, thank you. However, the house he lives in is sadly dilapidated. It is tottering on its foundations. The walls are badly shattered, and the roof is worn. The building trembles with every wind, and I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it before long. But he himself is very well."
Consider that Golda Meir was 71 when she became Prime Minister of Israel. George Bernard Shaw was 94 when he produced one of his plays. Benjamin Franklin was a framer of the U.S. Constitution at the age of 81. Thomas Edison was still making pioneering discoveries at 83. Michelangelo was 80 years of age when he designed the dome for St. Peter's. Goethe was 81 when he finished Faust. Pablo Cassals at the age of 93 was still practicing the cello five or six hours a day. Someone said, "Pablo, why do you practice the cello? You're 93!" He said, "Because I think I'm making some progress!"
Agatha Christie, the late mystery writer who married H.E. Mallowen, the famous archeologist, once quipped, "There are some tremendous advantages to marrying an archeologist--for one thing, the older you get, the more interested he becomes in me."
Arie Brouwer, prior to his death from colon cancer in 1993 at age 58, was a leader in the Reformed Church in America, and had formerly been general secretary of the National Council of Churches. In his final months, he wrote:
"These days I hold out very little hope for my cancer to be cured. I haven't given up, but the statistics steadily weigh in ever heavier against it. In spite of all that, I find my feelings of hope undiminished! How do I explain that even within the household of faith, to say nothing of a skeptical world? How do I keep people from feeling as I speak of this, or as they read this, that I am clutching at a straw? That I am deceiving myself, using hope as a form of escapism from the harsh reality of terminal illness and death? How do I communicate that in truth we do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13)? I believe that death is not the end, not the last word. ...
"Having believed all of this for many years, my feelings of hope are strong. I am not filled with dismay or anger or bitterness. This is true in spite of the aching disappointment I feel related to the people I want to be with and the things I would like to do in this life ... This experience of hope in spite of everything is to me even more important than the experience of faith in spite of everything. ... I am profoundly grateful for both."
Barth says that what is visible is the temporal, but the eternal that God will raise up is invisible. What is visible is the destruction of the outward person that perishes daily, but the renewal of the inward person that forbids us to be discouraged is invisible. What is visible is the present affliction, which causes us to sigh, but that this will quickly pass and is light that works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.[8]
Barth thinks this passage may not speak only of the individual anthropological eschaton. It may bear an ecclesiological and eschatological sense. The mention of the earthly house as a tabernacle hints this direction. The house is temporary. As we move toward the pulling down of this house, God is already preparing for us a building of God, referring to the transition from the first to the second. As we desire to be clothed by this house from heaven, we await fearfully the moment when the first house will have gone and the second does not yet surround and protect us. It is no good removing out of the old if there is no assurance of the new. However, correction and comfort are at hand. God assures us of a certain entrance into the new, and therefore a calm evacuation of the old by giving us the pledge of the Spirit in our hearts. Such a pledge is the first instalment of the final gift. The instalment was of a piece with the final gift and a pledge and guarantee of it. Yet, it was no more than the deposit on an account. Such statements have an individual and anthropological reference to the transition from our present abode, the present physical existence of the apostle and Christians in which we are not at home with the Lord, since we now walk by faith and not by sight. God is preparing a corresponding abode with the Lord, which negatively includes the fact that we are no longer at home in the body but lose our present physical existence. The old house is our mortal flesh in the individual anthropological sense of the term. The new house prepared by God and awaiting us in heaven is the incorruptible body, the new being, in which the apostle and Christians will be at home with the Lord. On the other hand, the “we” refers to a plurality of individuals who engage in anxious and hopeful reflection concerning their individual death that which lies beyond. Their present state is only a transitory abode. The New Testament uses terms like “building” and “house” with a thoroughgoing ecclesiological connotation. In view of these various points, we must understand the community in its present form, and only then the present physical existence of the individual Christian as he lives in the body. In terms of the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, we understand the new form of the community that here and now is future and transcendent, but which is perfect and comes down from heaven, from God. As he sees it, the passage has a primarily ecclesiological and eschatological character.[9]
A neuroscientist named Nicole Gravagna has developed a list of six human needs, based on 75 years of psychology, neuroscience, and sociology. At the top of the list is food, which provides calories and a variety of nutrients.Next comes water, giving the body the ability to process food and remove wastes. Third most important is shelter, which protects the human body from blazing sun, freezing temperatures, wind, and rain. Number four on the list is sleep, which is best experienced in the protection of a shelter. These top four human needs will not come as a surprise to anyone, because we all know how important it is to have food, water, shelter, and sleep. Paul’s words are in harmony with the last two of the six human needs identified by Nicole Gravagna: Other people and novelty. Yes, need number five is “other people.” Gravagna says that “regular connection to others allows us to maintain a sense of well-being.” We cannot thrive in isolation, which is why hiding in a huge McMansion is not a healthy way to live. Better to sit on the porch of a tiny home and say hello to your neighbors, or join a small group at church, or sing in a choir, or work alongside others in a community mission project. Connecting to other people is key to our emotional and spiritual health. The sixth and final human need is novelty. “Novelty creates the opportunity to learn and the ability to fail. Without regular novelty, motivation wanes and a healthy sense of well-being is lost.” Since novelty is anything that is new, original or unusual, Paul would connect novelty to our eventual home: “a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (II Corinthians 5:1). When it comes to buildings, there is nothing more novel. Yes, our final human need is having something new, original or unusual to pursue. And that precisely is why Paul counsels us to look forward with faith and hope. “We look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen, for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal” (v. 18).[10]
[1] Walter Brueggemann [The Old Testament] "voices the oldest, deepest, most resilient grounding of hope in all of human history, a hope that has been claimed by both Jews and Christians ... The hope articulated in ancient Israel is not a vague optimism or a generic good idea about the future but a precise and concrete confidence in and expectation for the future that is rooted explicitly in [God's] promises to Israel."
[2] Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament Volume 1, 318.
[3] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 138.
[4] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 534.
[5] Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. (Vaclav Havel, Disturbing the Peace (1986), Chapter 5)
[6] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 253.
[7] "Without optimism, our ancestors might never have ventured far from their tribes and we might all be cave dwellers, still huddled together and dreaming of light and heat." ("The optimism bias." TIME, June 6, 2011, 38-46)
[8] Church Dogmatics IV.1 {59.3] 330.
[9] Church Dogmatics IV.2 [67.1] 628-9, III.2 [47.1] 494.
[10] Gravagna, Nicole. “Six fundamental human needs we need to meet to live our best lives.” Forbes, February 5, 2018, www.forbes.com.
[11] ("The Weight of Glory," in C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses [New York: Simon & Schuster, 1975; First Touchstone Edition, 1996], 34-36.) "The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret. And surely, from this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory means good rapport with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgment, and welcome into the heart of things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last ... [and reveal] ... a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain."
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