They say that up to 90% of effective communication is created through non-verbal expressions. What you don’t say is as important as what you do say or how you say it. True or not, body language, verbal tone, mannerisms, and gestures play a huge role in conversing with one another. Anyone who has sent a text that created unintentional conflict understands “I was only joking,” or “It came off harsher than I intended.” Non-verbal expressions, especially tone, are important.
Once, a little old woman walked into the Post Office to get her mail. The Post Master handed her a letter from her son who was deployed. The woman was excited to receive the letter, except for one small detail; she was illiterate. She could not read. In her excitement, she asked a man who happened to be walking past her to read the letter to her. The man was in a hurry and uninterested in taking the time to read the letter, though he grudgingly complied. The woman’s anticipation melted into despair as the man read the letter in almost hateful tones. The woman snatched the letter out of the man’s hands and said, “That’s not my son! My son has never talked to me like that!”
As the woman made her way down the street she met another man. She asked him to read the letter from her son, to which the man eagerly and graciously agreed. He read the letter with joy and enthusiasm. The more he read, the more the woman relaxed and smiled. Even a tear gently crawled down her cheek. When he finished the letter, the woman said, “That’s exactly how my son speaks to me.”
How you say something is just as important as what you say.
Paul has come to the end of his letter with the Corinthians (2 Cor. 13:11-14). Usually, we overlook “Final Greetings” of the epistles, thinking they are throw-a-way statements without much substance. I do the same thing. “Say hi to George! Greet one another. I’m coming to visit. Jeremy says hi. And God be with you till we meet again.” Yea, pretty basic, simple stuff that does not deserve much study or sermon time. But then again, Paul has been through the ringer with the Corinthians. They’ve rejected his leadership and according to 2 Corinthians 2:1-2, he made a visit to them that ended badly. And I mean badly! Like they ran him out of town on a rail. Just a few verses earlier (13:1-4), he’s promising to make a visit and he expects certain behavioral changes. Too much is at stake for Paul to end 2 Corinthians on throw-a-way words. How he ends his letter to the Corinthians, including the tone he chooses, will be the last thing the Church hears. Honestly, what I believe Paul is doing in 2 Corinthians 13:11-14 is summarizing his message.
As we unpack Paul’s words we note that he calls them “brothers,” a term he has used twice before (1:8; 8:1). “Brothers” conveys family, warmth, affection and underlies his approach to them has been relational, as opposed to being transactional. Paul is not their enemy nor their boss, and he is more than just a friend or their pastor. He’s their brother who has invested in them and is hoping for real change in their lives.
At this point Paul pops off five imperative statements. These are quick reminders of themes he’s covered throughout the letter. The first one is “goodbye,” according to my translation, but it’s also the same word for “rejoice.” Since Paul has already displayed affection with the use of “brothers,” simply saying “goodbye” comes across as wooden. Rejoice has appeared numerous times throughout the letter (2:3; 6:10; 7:7, 9, 13, 16; 13:9) and each time is connected with either their positive response to Paul’s reconciling, or their ability to endure suffering. Being shaped, or in the case of the Corinthians shaped by the gospel, is cause for rejoicing. When we seek reconciliation instead of estrangement we’re being (re)fashioned by the gospel. When we provide comfort instead of cause suffering we’re being (re)forged by the gospel. When we are generous instead of selfish we are being (re)molded by the gospel. When we realize our brokenness instead of our perceived value we’re being (re)sculpted by the gospel. When we celebrate our weaknesses instead of our own strength we’re being (re)cut by the gospel. All of which is cause for joy.
Secondly, he calls for them to “aim for perfection.” Paul sets the bar of their faith high, but he doesn’t demand perfection. He wants them to shoot for perfection. True, we won’t reach the bar of perfection, but neither are we playing limbo with our faith: “how low can we go?” Or as some people ask, “What is the least amount I can do to be accepted by God?” The Corinthians, not to mention us, need some quality control over the kind of faith we profess to have. Some of their problems reach back to the divisiveness of their gatherings involving quarreling, slander, spiritual pride, and angry outburst, as well as their infatuation with idolatry.
Thirdly, he wants them to “listen to his appeals.” In preparing for his arrival, the church needs to show signs that they have implemented Paul’s teachings. Listening is a huge theme in Scripture from God telling the disciples to listen to Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, to James reminding us we have two ears and one mouth for a reason, and to John in Revelation calling forth those who have ears to hear to listen. Before action can take place, one must hear what is being taught.
Fourthly, he calls the church to unity. Once again, Corinth was a church noted for its divisive nature. The struggle for individual independence is at odds with the community peace. It’s easier to be your own person. It’s something entirely different to surrender yourself for the good of others. For 2 Corinthians the unity is rooted in Paul’s presentation of the gospel, a gospel that embraces suffering and weakness.
Finally, Paul calls them to live in peace, which is the result of reconciliation. When people come together, they are no longer at odds with each other. Peace is established. The result of a peaceful reconciliation is that God’s loving and peaceful presence will dwell among them.
With all the trouble Corinth had caused Paul, one might believe he’d given up on them. Or better yet, he’d unload on them. He doesn’t. He neither bails on them by jumping ship, nor does he fear monger them or threaten them. He certainly does not question their salvation, and nor does he bring the heat, though he acknowledges their struggle. In fact, since tone is everything to the apostle, he underscores his conclusion with hope, saying, “and the God of love and peace will be with you” (13:11b). It’s possible to move forward, to move forward together, and to move forward with God. It was Paul’s final word to the Corinthians and it was one filled with hope.
When I was a seminary student I took one class in counseling. It was hardly enough training to minister to a church, but I did learn one fact. The professor always encouraged us to underscore hope when counseling someone, especially couples. Everything may be falling apart – they may argue and fight, they don’t see eye-to-eye, or they barely speak. Always, he said, encourage them that they can work out their differences. They can salvage their relationship. Always leave them with hope. Always.
We do the same thing in hospice. We won’t lie and tell them they will get better. But we tell them how good of a job they are doing in caring for the loved one. We root them on when medication is on time and accurate. And when instruction is needed, we come back with, “I know it’s a lot, but I believe you can do this.” Always end with hope. It’s what Paul did for Corinth. It’s what we do for our patients. It’s how we roll as Christians.
During the 1980’s the TV show Hill Street Blues brought one of the first realistic, gritty police dramas which tried to bring a more true-to-life depiction of life as cops. One of the beloved characters was Sargent Phil Esterhaus, played by Michael Conrad. Every episode usually began with Esterhaus calling roll, then going over the agenda for the day before sending his men and women out on the beat. He was the wise sage, who took his job seriously. Yes, he laughed and gave a knowing smirk, but he cared about the men and women under his command. Every day he knew they were being sent into the unknown danger. His signature line underscored his affection for them and his concern. His tone was a mixture of serious warning and parental loving concern. It was his final word, “You be careful out there.”
In the spirit of Esterhaus, I adopted a similar approach as I closed worship services at my church during COVID. With fears, anxieties, and frustrations wreaking havoc on people’s lives, church communities, and society in general people were being pushed to the edge. I ended services with a word of hope. I made direct eye contact with the church, even if it was through the camera, and regardless of the sermon topic or the struggles the church was facing. Each Sunday morning I said, “God’s got us, and he’ll get us through these days.”
I took this approach because my I wanted my final word to be hope. And maybe, just maybe somebody heard my words and tone and found the hope, thinking, “Yea, that’s exactly how Christ really speaks to us.”
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)