Strength out of Weakness

I’ve always had difficulty in dealing with folk whose theology says that if we are spiritual enough, if our faith is strong enough, then either God will keep us from experiencing “bad things,” or, if we have to deal with difficulties, He will respond to our prayers and make things right.

Just recently, after sharing my story with a group, someone reminded me that if my faith was strong, God would answer my prayers. I replied that I, too, believe that God listens and responds to my prayers, but not always in ways I can understand or would choose. I cited the example of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane when He prayed for the “cup” to be removed. But His prayer was not answered in the way He prayed.

I imagine that some of the Apostle Paul’s opponents in Corinth had the same theology. They valued strength and power and eschewed human weakness. But Paul was aware of his humanity and marveled at how God used his weakness to accomplish His purpose for Paul. In fact, in 2 Corinthians 11:23-29, Paul catalogues his weaknesses and suffering.

He reminds the Corinthians that we live in a broken world and only in heaven will we trade in this vulnerable body for the perfect, pain-free body. In the meantime, God uses the pains of this fallen world as a conduit for the empowering comfort of God. And through this comfort, we are able to comfort and minister to others.

Paul implied that the most difficult of circumstances teach us the most profound lesson of life—that we must learn to depend on God alone, not on ourselves. Paul talks about his “thorn in the flesh” and prayed for its removal. But, at the end of the day, God used Paul’s pain as a channel of His grace and empowerment and to teach him invaluable lessons about life.

So, I’m not ashamed to show my humanity. God knows I’ve demonstrated it over and over throughout life. But, like Paul, I have discovered that my sufferings, my imperfect humanity, have put me in a position to receive divine power. Out of death, I will receive life; out of my weakness comes God’s empowerment.

The temptation for most of us is to hide our weaknesses and boast in our strengths. Yet, Paul would testify that against the backdrop of our weaknesses God’s grace and power shine the brightest.

I am not divine. My weaknesses and lack of faith are all too evident. I am, at times, all too human. But as I embrace my humanity, God is able to bring strength from my weakness. “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

How can you pray for me? Pray that I will acknowledge my weakness (not as a way of boasting, but a way of being honest) and that I will allow God to use my weaknesses as a medium of His grace and power.

Along the Journey

Easter 2007
The One Who Goes Ahead

In preparing for Easter this year, I have been especially drawn to Mark’s account of the Resurrection. Upon reflection, I was reminded that in the Easter message that I sent out last year, I used the message of the angel in Mark’s gospel: “Now go and give this message to his disciples, including Peter: Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died!” (Luke 16:7, New Living Translation). Though that word spoke powerfully to me last year, I realize it speaks even more loudly to where I find myself this year than it did then.

These past three months have been characterized by enormous changes and uncertainty for Anita and me. Last Easter, we had been through a year of change as we had moved from Singapore and assumed new responsibilities. But that upheaval in our lives pales in comparison to what we face this Easter. In light of these realities, I am struck again with the message of the angel. And that word has been Gospel (good news) for me this Easter.

The prospect of going first into some unknown territory often causes us to hesitate and procrastinate, to hold back, and to wait for someone else to take the plunge. The angel at the empty tomb explained that the risen Christ had served this role: He had gone ahead of the disciples and would meet them in Galilee.

I need that message this year as never before: Jesus still goes ahead of us to prepare the way and to meet us in whatever future, whatever “Galilee”, we find ourselves. Someone asked me recently if I was afraid as I face the future. To be honest, my answer is “Yes.” There is always a measure of fear as one faces the unknown, the uncertainty of what lies beyond death. I know what I believe in my heart, the promise of life everlasting in the very presence of God. And I believe that with all my being and have shaped my life around its assurance. But, at the end of the day, it is an unknown venture, one that I have accepted by faith.

Nobody has been there and then come back to tell us that heaven is a reality, that there is life beyond death. No, that’s not true. Easter tells us that Jesus died, and then was resurrected. He has “gone before us” and awaits us there. That does more than I can possibly articulate to allay my fears and to give me hope.

Listen again to the great promises of the Resurrection:
-- “I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am there you may be also.”
-- “because I live you shall live also.”
-- “those who believe in me though they are dead, yet shall they live. . .”
-- “lo, I am with you always.”
These are the promises that enable me to look beyond the present suffering and sorrow and uncertainty and give me strength to make it through each new day with His companionship.

Easter is all about new life. It is about the one who has defeated the forces of death and in His great love invites us to new life here and now and forever. Be attentive to His call to you in this Easter Season. If you need more proof about the resurrection, the only way you will find it is to take a risk and start looking for signs of the resurrection in your own life.

Jesus will come to you, to your future, and say to you the same thing He has said to so many down through the ages, “Follow me.” Christ is risen and He calls you and me to journey with Him into ministry and abundant living today and forever. Let’s head out to Galilee. He awaits us there. Wherever He bids us come, remember that He has gone there before us and has prepared the way for us. That's the message of Easter. And I can’t tell you how much comfort and hope that gives me.

Jack

Along the Journey 04-05-07

“Gethsemane…from Fear to Hope”

I confess that this year I’ve walked through Holy Week with a different outlook. As I read the events of the week, I find myself on Maundy Thursday in Gethsemane. Several years ago, a group from our church in Jacksonville shared communion in Gethsemane, then sat there quietly, deeply moved by the knowledge that this was where the Savior Himself once knelt, prior to His crucifixion. It’s a beautiful and awesome spot, an oasis of calm. But, figuratively speaking, Gethsemane is a place where no one wants to be. It’s the place where we prepare to die.

But we all have our Gethsemane. It’s not our Galilee, the place of preparation where we learn and grow, and one day return in triumph. It’s not our Golgotha, the place of ending and death. Gethsemane is somewhere in between. For Jesus, for His followers, and for us, Gethsemane is that place in life where you finally know that you are mortal, that death is inescapable, and is on its way.

Gethsemane is that one place in your life from which you can’t go forward, and you can’t go back. All you can do is cry out, “Father, if there’s any way, don’t make me drink it.” For me, on this Maundy Thursday, Gethsemane is that place where I know the end is coming, and I wish, so much like Jesus, that there was some other way.

On that first Maundy Thursday, I find myself with Him on that hillside; in the night, among the olive trees, with a handful of terrified and sleepy disciples. Like the disciples, I have little clue about what’s going on. I don’t know what will happen next, and, quite frankly, I’m afraid to know.

The strangest thing about being afraid is that you can only fear what hasn’t happened yet. When one of my friends from Newnan was told that his biopsy indicated the possibility of a malignancy, but that the final results wouldn’t be in until the next week, he nearly fell apart. He told me later, “I was overwhelmed by the fear of not knowing. After I was told I did have cancer, I was able to handle that much better than the fear of the unknown.” That’s the fear with every Gethsemane: that the worst has not yet arrived, but you suspicion that it’s on its way. And the longer you wait there, the worse it gets.

Three times Jesus cries out in agony to His Father: “Father, isn’t there some other way?” Gethsemane is that place where something in you dies. Your confidence in your own obedience. You finally know how inadequate you are to face life in your own strength. You finally face the fact that you cannot save yourself, let alone anyone else. Only grace will do.

Somewhere on the road from Galilee to Golgotha lies our Gethsemane. No one wants to be there. We pray for this cup to pass, for this trial to be over, this burden to be lifted, this sorrow to be gone. One day this will happen, but in the meantime, our path lies through the olive grove, not around it. Yet if Gethsemane represents our greatest fear, it also represents our greatest hope.

We know that somewhere on the other side of Gethsemane, God raised Jesus from a terrible death. At Gethsemane Jesus confronts the enormity of what lies ahead; there He finds the strength He needs in order to follow through. “Not my will,” He eventually says, “but yours be done.” In much the same way, those who follow Him to this place find that Gethsemane is where God takes the suffering, the failure, the broken fragments of our lives, and chooses to anoint them.

I confess that I’m in Gethsemane right now, gripped by fear, but holding on to hope. And some of you are also there. Wherever you find your Gethsemane, I pray it would be more than a place of darkness and dread. I pray it would also be a place of anointing, a place of discovery, and of yielding to God’s gracious will. May it be for you a place of knowing Christ in His sufferings in order to share with Him the life and resurrection only God can bring. Easter won’t come unless we’ve spent time in Gethsemane. So, no matter what our struggles are, no matter what seems about to crucify us, let us look to the resurrected and living Christ. It may be Thursday night, but Sunday’s coming. We may feel like we’re hanging on a cross, but the resurrection is on its way.

Jack