the strength of weakness
we need a pill for that
Most of us are encouraged—whether subtly or directly—to hide our weaknesses. Sometimes we soften the term and call them “growing edges.” (That sounds more hopeful, though I don’t mind calling them weaknesses—I have plenty to choose from!)
In any event, sometimes there’s the temptation to focus on, and even to exaggerate our strengths and abilities in order to impress others and to make a name for ourselves. We might even want to fool ourselves.
Reading 2 Corinthians 12, we can see the apostle Paul doesn’t like to operate that way. And for what it’s worth, he doesn’t shy away from speaking of his own “weaknesses.”
He starts the chapter by saying, “It is necessary to boast.” But he quickly adds “nothing is to be gained by it” (v. 1). Why does Paul say he has to boast? He’s dealing with the Corinthian church, a group of people that are being wowed by preachers Paul sarcastically calls “super-apostles.” They are superheroes in eloquence! Unfortunately, some of the stuff they articulate so well is more focused on themselves than on the gospel.
That kind of self-promotion remains. The late Peter Steinke, a respected church consultant, talked about it in his book Congregational Leadership in Anxious Times. Steinke refers to “people of the charm.” There are those who charm, and on the flip side, there are those who want to be charmed. He describes a charmer as one who “can thrive for years without realizing that the core of his or her life is empty and that beneath the narcissistic glitter is a false and an impaired self.” (169)
The charmer projects charisma, which in reality can be “a cheap substitute for charis, the [New Testament] word for grace.” The charmer uses charisma “to control and manipulate other people… In the circle of charm, there is no freedom.” (171) But that’s okay, because as I said, they admire the charmer—they enjoy being put under the spell!
Steinke quotes someone who made a nice little pun. He said such relationships are “gilt by association.” (175)
So getting back to Paul, when he says he’s forced to brag, for a moment he decides to play their game. He has some credentials himself that aren’t too shabby. He can be a show off with the best of them. Seriously, how many of these characters can honestly claim they’ve had visions of being taken to heaven and hearing “things that are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat”? (v. 4).
Still, despite his visions, he responds there’s nothing to brag about. There’s no reason to play the role of charmer. If there is anything to brag about, it’s his weaknesses.
I think he needs a pill for that.
If that’s his self-analysis, I’m not sure how well he would do interviewing for a job! “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”
Just in case he’s tempted to draw attention to himself and “the exceptional character of the revelations,” he adds “a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated,” from getting too big for his britches (v. 7)!
[Three times Paul appealed to the Lord about his thorn in the flesh]
No one really knows what he means by this “thorn in the flesh.” Some have speculated it’s an illness. In Galatians 4, he says, “You know that it was because of a physical infirmity that I first announced the gospel to you; though my condition put you to the test, you did not scorn or despise me” (vv. 13-14).
The thorn could be something else that Paul admits: he’s not a very good public speaker. However, in chapter 11, he counters, “I think that I am not in the least inferior to these super-apostles. I may be untrained in speech, but not in knowledge” (vv. 5-6). Eugene Peterson put it like this: “if you put up with these big-shot ‘apostles,’ why can’t you put up with simple me?… It’s true that I don’t have their voice, haven’t mastered that smooth eloquence that impresses you so much. But when I do open my mouth, I at least know what I’m talking about.”
Whatever the thorn in the flesh might be, and scholars debate the possibilities, but it was surely something humbling.
Paul begs God three times to take it away. But the response is, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). Paul eventually accepts it. And his conclusion? “Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong” (v. 10).
The apostle discovers—and teaches us—the strength of weakness. What the world sees as defeat, God uses as a doorway to grace.
On the face of it, “the strength of weakness” seems to be completely ridiculous. It’s like saying, “as clear as mud.” Nonetheless, Paul has learned from the vision he saw on the road to Damascus. He has learned from the one who, as he declares, “was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God” (2 Co 13:4).
There is indeed power in weakness. When we’re able to admit our mistakes, to acknowledge our weaknesses, there is a sense of liberation. When we’re freed from the compulsion to project a false front, to put on a show, to trust in our own achievements, we begin the journey of discovering who we truly are.
As Thomas Merton says in No Man is an Island, “If I do not know who I am, it is because I think I am the sort of person everyone around me wants to be. Perhaps I have never asked myself whether I really wanted to become what everybody else seems to want to become. Perhaps if I only realized that I do not admire what everyone seems to admire, I would really begin to live after all…” (Kindle edition, chapter 7, section 8, paragraph 2.)
[An early cover of the book]
“Why do we have to spend our lives striving to be something that we would never want to be, if we only knew what we wanted? Why do we waste our time doing things which, if we only stopped to think about them, are just the opposite of what we were made for?” (7.8.3)
The strength of weakness is daring to be who God created us to be.
Still, we see each other’s weaknesses, and we can fall into the trap of defining people solely on that basis. It’s like taking a photo of someone at their worst—or in their most embarrassing situation—and saying, “This is who they are, forever and ever!” Nevertheless, if we are in Christ, we live as those who believe and expect renewal and resurrection. In many ways, we keep on being raised from the dead. And thinking of weaknesses, there’s nothing weaker than death!
Merton notes about weaknesses that they “play a most important part in all our lives. It is because of them that we need others and others need us. We are not all weak in the same spots, and so we supplement and complete one another, each [of us] making up in [ourselves] for the lack in another.” (Prologue.25)
That is why the apostle Paul says, “on my behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses” (v. 5). That includes identifying and laying down improper or unfair claims, identifying and laying down our pretensions, identifying and laying down our striving which kills us and others.
It’s not enough to embrace our weaknesses—we must also release them. We bring them to Christ, not to cling to them, but to be transformed. In his hands, our limitations become strength. Our flaws become grace.
That is the strength of weakness.