WHEN I AM WEAK, THEN I AM STRONG
II Corinthians 12:2-10
Rev. Gary Paterson
July 22, 2012
This has been a difficult sermon to
write, and I’m not sure it’s fully come together. Difficult, at one level, because of a time
crunch. You see, my mother has had a
small stroke, and I have spent most of the week over in Victoria
So I have been pondering Paul’s
claim, wondering what he’s trying to say. I recalled some lines from Leonard Cohen,
Ring
the bells that still can ring,
Forget
your perfect offering;
There
is a crack in everything,
That’s
how the light gets in.
A crack in
everything… the place of weakness, when things fall apart; the pretence of
perfection goes by the wayside, and there is a moment of blessing. And I thought, “Yes, that’s true.” Then there’s Hemingway’s claim, “Life breaks
all of us; some grow stronger in the broken places.” And I agree… except I also know that some
people remain broken; they don’t get stronger.
But then I recalled a Hasidic one-liner, “A whole Jew is one with a
broken heart.” -- and that resonates.
But it sure goes against the
dominant values of our culture, where we are told over and over that we need to
be strong, successful winners, as we strive for the 3 “A’s” – affluence,
achievement and attractiveness. There
isn’t much space for losers; we admire survivors, superheroes, the top
dog. Weakness is usually held in
contempt. So what about, “When I am weak
I am strong?
Now, let’s be clear… this isn’t a
new problem, somehow unique to our culture.
Let me take you back a couple of thousand years, to the early church in
the city of Corinth
Well, when Paul got wind of what was
happening, he whipped off some fiery letters, determined to re-establish his
own credentials and authority. He didn’t
want to play the game, “I’m more spiritual than you are.” – but he did, in
fact, get caught up in it, even as he was mocking it. “You want mystical visions and ecstatic
spirituality?” he asked, … well, been there, done that… in spades! “I know a person in Christ who fourteen years
ago was caught up to the third heaven – whether in the body or out of the body
I do not know; God knows – was caught up into Paradise and heard things that
are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat.”
Although Paul was writing in the third person, as if referring to
someone else, it’s pretty clear that he’s talking about himself. But just as he gets on a roll… he shifts
gears; almost laughs at himself; and begins instead to boast about… well, his
weaknesses. It’s not that he was disregarding
spiritual experiences -- obviously his own had been overwhelming and
amazing. But he was clear that getting
“spiritually high” wasn’t really what Christianity was all about. He was more interested in what was happening
“on the ground”, in the day to day, in how people were living together, how
they treated each other.
You might recall that his first
letter to the church in Corinth
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but
do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and
understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to
remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing; and if I give away all my
possessions and if I hand over my body so that I may boast but do not have
love, I gain nothing.
Paul knows in his
heart that this is true, and that all the fancy spiritual experiences of the
world don’t amount to anything if love is absent, that down-to-earth,
practical, willingness to suffer and forgive, the determination to care, to
sacrifice, to be compassionate… and to be weak; or at least, to look weak and
foolish in the eyes of the world.
But boy, Paul was still tempted to be the strong guy… ’twas his nature, I suspect. But he had a problem that seemed to impact
his public persona, a disability perhaps, certainly a deep pain, clearly… a
weakness. He called it a “thorn.” Nobody
knows what he’s actually talking about, what this thorn was, although that
hasn’t stopped volumes of speculation, with suggestions that range from
psychological troubles to sexual orientation to epilepsy to speech impediments. In truth, it doesn’t really matter; we don’t need
to know the details, and Paul isn’t about to tell us. What’s important is that this disability
becomes a gift; this weakness becomes the means by which Paul is humbled; he is
kept from thinking too much of himself, from walking around with a swelled
head, saying, “What a fine missionary am I!”
What he discovers is that this very thorn helps him become more
Christ-like.
Because… well, did
you catch the reference? -- to Paul’s praying three times that this thorn be
removed? It’s a phrase which carries all kinds of
echoes of another recent scene that involved a triple prayer, asking that a
hardship be removed… that would be Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane
.
Perhaps this is a reminder not only to Paul, but to all of us, that
ultimately our life’s adventure isn’t really about us, it’s about God. The only way it makes sense to say, “When I
am weak then I am strong,” is to recognize that God is intimately involved at
the very heart of it all. It is God’s
power that is made apparent, evident and perfect in our weakness. It seems that the “thorn,” or any of the
troubles, hurts and weaknesses that all of us experience and carry, become
occasions when we can discover that our hopes of making it on our own, of self-sufficiency,
are simply illusory. We just don’t have
that kind of power… and our weaknesses drive that point home; and yet, at the
same time, reassure us that at precisely that moment, God’s power will be
manifest. I am reminded of the old story
about “moon gazing”—never to confuse the moon with the finger that is pointing
to it. Which is to day, it’s never about
the messenger, the apostle, the preacher, the sermon, the good deed, the
faithful attitude… these are all just ways of helping people focus on what is
truly important… God. Thus, when the
messenger is weak, it’s clear that it’s the moon, it’s God, that we need to pay
attention to.
Perhaps that’s how the cross
functions… an ultimate symbol of weakness that nevertheless points us to
God. We are often tempted to forget that
the Christian story at its heart is a story of weakness, pain and suffering; of
seeming defeat, of death. It becomes a
good news story only because of resurrection… that is to say, because of God’s
action, God’s involvement in the story.
Christianity never promises a life of ease, success, and triumph,
despite what prosperity preachers might claim… you know, just pray hard, send
in your money, be obedient, and you will get rich, or win the football game. Clearly
they have not being paying much attention to the life of Jesus, or the life of
Paul. In fact, did you know that,
according to tradition, all the disciples, with the exception it seems of John,
died a violent, untimely death in martyrdom.
That’s what happened to Paul as well – most likely executed in Rome
But do we really believe this? I suspect that I could preach away ’til I am
blue in the face, and I probably wouldn’t get much further. So let me tell you a few stories; let’s put
some flesh on this claim that “when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Several years ago, in another church
where I was serving, there was a young woman named Jennifer. She lived with a great many disabilities,
both mental and physical. But, my word,
she was spunky, courageous and cheerful, and was determined to participate in
life to the max, including the life of the church community. And she was determined to take her turn as a
Scripture reader during a Sunday service.
So her name was added to the roster, and eventually her moment
arrived. Now, she didn’t sit at the
front, like Shirley did [today’s Scripture reader, who, like all our readers,
sits beside the minister]; no, for some reason, she stayed in the pew, half way
back from the front, and so when the time came for her to read, she lurched out
of her pew, and with her hand braces and crutches began to move slowly to the
front. I was a bit impatient, I confess,
because once again we were behind schedule, and I was worried about finishing
the service on time. But Jennifer kept
on moving… slowly. Eventually she got to
the front, parked her crutches, and took a deep breath. And began to read… slowly, with her finger
tracking the words, line by line, word by word.
By fluke, by coincidence… oh, let’s just admit it, by the work of the
Spirit … the passage that she read came from Paul’s first letter to
Corinthians, from chapter twelve,
Now there are
varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit, and there are varieties of services,
but the same Lord… to each [person] is given the manifestation of the Spirit
for the common good…. For just as the body is one and has many members… so it
is with Christ… The body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, “Because I am not a
hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of
the body… The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again
the head to the feet, “ I have no need of you…..”
Well, as Jennifer
read, you could feel a holy silence descend upon the entire congregation; we
recognized that the Scripture was being embodied, made real, in the flesh, in
that very moment, right there at the front of the church. No need for a sermon …or anything else. Jennifer in her weakness had become
incredibly strong; she was a part of the body… a gift, a wonder, filled with
Spirit. When she finished, and slowly
made her way back to her seat we all knew that God’s grace was sufficient and
God’s power had shone forth in weakness.
Another story…
from a member of this congregation… and yes, permission has been given to share
this with you. A few days ago I received
a lengthy email, a response to my friend’s having seen the Burrard sign, with
the sermon title, “When I am weak, than I am strong.” “Exactly,” said the writer, “that’s my
story!” He talked about how for so many
years of his life he had tried to be strong and successful – that’s what the
world saw. And it was true… he was very
gifted, an accomplished man. But there
was another side as well – because inside he carried all kinds of uncertainty,
insecurity, compulsions, and fears; inside there were secrets! It was an ongoing struggle to keep it all
together, not letting anyone see the turmoil inside. Then he discovered that drinking helped him
cope with this inner weakness, and before too long, he began to abuse alcohol –
which made everything worse! This whole
struggle was exacerbated by his determination to hide what he thought was a deep
dark secret – he was gay. Having grown up in a small town with no positive
examples of what it might mean to be gay, and being involved with a very
fundamentalist Christian community, he kept the secret to himself -- and
continued to drink. Eventually
everything fell apart… weakness broke through the surface strength. It could all have ended very badly. But then came a moment of grace… the
discovery that when he admitted his inner confusion, his pain, and his
sexuality, then suddenly he felt free; suddenly his true self emerged… a person
who was strong and capable, absolutely; but also someone who had struggles, who
was weak. He found that when he admitted
his powerlessness in the face of addictions he was able to discover a new
source of strength… God, his Higher Power.
He didn’t have to play the game anymore – he could be himself, in all
his frailty and in all his strength. He
discovered the gift of self-acceptance, and was no longer caught up in the
pretence of being someone he wasn’t; he was someone with many gifts, and
someone with many challenges… like all of us.
His willingness to be authentic
and vulnerable, and his acceptance of his weakness -- it was this that led to a rich and full life…
and to his conviction that when I am weak, I am strong.
Another story… again from a member
of our congregation; and again, shared with permission. This person is presently out of town, sitting
with her mother as she dies. She writes,
“It is difficult indeed to walk side by side with someone as death approaches,
but also a blessing to have that time to be with them undistractedly.” Her mother is living with dementia – which
sounds awful, but in a strange way has become a gift, for the dementia has
brought a softness of being, a vulnerability… a change. In past years this mother had never really
been able to say to her daughter “I love you!”, at least not in a way that
truly seemed to come from the heart – it always seemed to be a statement of
duty, of obligation, of will. But now,
for the first time… the words seemed to come from the heart – and the love was
felt. Suddenly weakness became an incredible
gift. How strange; how wonderful; how
grace-filled. When I am weak, then I am
strong.
Indeed, isn’t this our human reality, in a more general and
universal way – that we are creatures of weakness and strength? I mean, we spend so many of the early years of
our lives, being completely dependent on parents and care-givers -- humans
spend more time in childhood dependency than any other species on earth; it
goes on for some sixteen, seventeen years, despite what teenagers may say, as
they assert their initial independence.
And even when adulthood is achieved, illness, accident, bad luck… the
frailty of our human bodies … so many things can shift us back to weakness and
dependency. And if we are lucky to live
long enough, into old age… well, then once again our strength begins to
diminish and we find ourselves swallowed up in weakness, reliant on the
kindness and strength of others.
But this isn’t a bad thing; it’s
simply true, an accurate description of what it means to be human. It’s okay to be weak, as well as strong … it
really is. It’s not a question of
pretending to always be self-sufficient and strong – ultimately we’re only
fooling ourselves. What we need to be
clear about is on what, or in whom we find our ultimate source of strength; the
One we can trust to be there for us, no matter what – our Source, our Power – I
would say God, the God who is revealed in Christ. When our final illusions of self-sufficiency crumble;
when we know our frailty and vulnerability – be not afraid; in fact, be
reassured, and know that it’s okay. Know
that God is with us, always. Sometimes
that recognition only comes when we come face to face with our own weakness,
and discover that with God we remain strong.
When we are weak, with God we are strong. And that’s good news!
My Mum is weak. But she also is clear that she has lived a
good life; and that dying is not the worst thing that can happen. She is getting herself ready, I think, for
the next step in her journey, though God willing, and probably more for my sake
than for hers, I hope it’s not now. But
it’s so very clear that in some strange way, in the face of the all that is
happening, even though she is weak, she is strong. And that is the work of grace.
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