When I am Weak

In Nomine Iesu
2 Cor. 12:7-10
July 5, 2009
Pentecost 5

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When we moved to Whitefish Bay, I was glad to see that there were no rose bushes in our new yard. You see, before we lived here, we lived in a home that had six rose bushes in the front yard. Rose bushes are not my favorite shrub. Roses are pretty flowers, to be sure. But rose bushes require too much attention. They need to be watered and fertilized. They need to be pruned every so often. They need to be covered and protected during harsh winter weather. What’s more, rose bushes are susceptible to hungry bugs and all kinds of fungus and disease. The roses themselves don’t last long. And then there’s my least favorite feature of the rose bush—the thorns—thorns perfectly designed to burrow into human hands.

Nobody likes thorns. Their prick is painful. They have a way of reaching out and impaling us when we least expect it. Even the most cautious, careful and steady-handed gardener cannot avoid the pain inflicted by thorns.

That pain is so common, in fact, that St. Paul used the thorn as a metaphor in today’s reading from 2 Corinthians. “There was given me a thorn in my flesh,” he writes. And the Greek word Paul chose for “thorn” can also be translated as “sharpened stake” or “spike.” From this we can gather that Paul wasn’t merely describing a slight prick or scratch, but rather a deep and painful puncture.

What was Paul’s thorn? What caused him such pain? Epileptic seizures, poor vision, malaria, stuttering, migraines, a disorder of the nervous system—these are just a sampling of the guesses that Bible scholars have made over the years as to exactly what this malady was—this malady Paul describes as his thorn. But these are really nothing more than educated guesses. One pastor I read last week suggested that Paul’s thorn wasn’t a physical affliction at all, but a person, an antagonist—literally a messenger of Satan who tormented him by working twenty-four-seven to undermine his teaching. But whatever it was (the Holy Spirit has left it intentionally ambiguous), Paul’s thorn was painful. It impeded the important work Paul had been given to do—or so it seemed.

So debilitating was this thorn in Paul’s flesh that on three separate occasions he pleaded with the Lord to take it away. Three times Paul the Apostle—the one who was called by the glorified Christ on the road to Damascus—three times he got down on his knees and prayed for relief. And on three separate occasions the Lord did not do as Paul requested. The Lord did not remove Paul’s thorn. Instead, the Lord gave Paul the strength to bear it—the strength to carry on despite the thorn in his flesh.

But the Lord did not leave Paul empty-handed in his suffering. He didn’t tell Paul to toughen up or just “rub some dirt on it.” He gave him a wonderful promise—a promise from which Christians have drawn strength and comfort for two thousand years: Jesus said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” The grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient. The grace of God that flows from the cross of Christ into your life is sufficient. It is enough. Nothing more is needed. The power of Jesus is perfected when you are at your weakest. “When I am weak,” Paul writes, “then I am strong.”

What about you? Do you believe that? Do you believe that the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient—or is there something more that’s needed? When Paul heard those words from Jesus, all he had to do was reflect on the events of his own life to see that what Jesus said was true—to see that when he was at his weakest, Jesus was at His strongest. Paul had been beaten, flogged, stoned, shipwrecked, hungry, thirsty, naked, imprisoned and exhausted. But through it all, the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ had sustained him—compelled him—to keep on going.

What about you? What about your life? What’s the thorn in your flesh? What is it that causes you such pain that it threatens to prevent you from carrying out your callings in this life? If God gave you the “magic wand of thorn removal,” what malady would you wish away? As I look around this morning, there’s no shortage of thorns that need removal: cancer, autism, mental illness, addictions—things that seem to suck all the joy out of life—burdens in which there appears to be no silver lining, nothing positive—obstacles that seem to hinder even your faith in Jesus at times. Can’t the Lord Jesus see how much better things would be if those thorns were taken away and removed?

Part of the problem is our aversion to weakness. We don’t want to be weak. We don’t want to appear weak. If we’re weak that shows that we’re needy and dependent. Instead, we like power and success and independence. We want to be healthy and strong. To accomplish this we eat right. We exercise. We take vitamins. I myself get up very early most mornings to exercise and lift weights in an attempt to increase my strength. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing but the physique of a robust pencil! (And that’s being generous.)

There’s nothing wrong with exercising for strength, but know this: Our God does His best work in human weakness—when you’re flat on your back with no choice but to “be still and know that He is God.” “My power is made perfect in weakness,” He says. The power of Jesus is made perfect in cancer, in autism, in mental illness, in addictions, in all the thorny maladies that cause you pain—Jesus says, “There am I. There is my power. There am I teaching you to live and be completely reliant upon my all-sufficient grace.” “His grace has brought you safe thus far, His grace will lead you home.”

Jesus isn’t just lecturing us when He speaks of power made perfect in weakness. Jesus is pointing us to His cross. For in the crucifixion of Jesus, God’s power was perfected. Jesus’ death was God’s most powerful act—by which He forgives your sins and swallows up your death. St. Paul could write metaphorically about the “thorn” in his flesh. But for Jesus, thorns were no metaphor. The thorns and the sharpened spikes in His flesh were the very real payment for your very real sins.

“My power is made perfect in weakness,” says Jesus. That power is perfected in you here in this place, in the Divine Service. As you confess your sins and receive absolution, as you hear the promises of Jesus and eat and drink His body and blood, the hidden power of Jesus is given to you. Here you learn about His grace, and how all-sufficient it really is. You’d never know it just by looking (we’ve got no fireworks to announce it), but the power of God is at work here, buried under weakness. It is the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection to save you.

The good news for us this morning is, you don’t have to be strong. Let me say it again: You don’t have to be strong—because Jesus is strong. He’s your Savior. His grace is sufficient for you. His power is made perfect in your weakness. In Christ, even our weaknesses can be cause for joy as they teach us to depend more and more—not upon our own strength—but upon the amazing grace of Jesus. So that together with Paul we too can say with thankful hearts, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Amen.