I saw
something in the Greek of 2 Corinthians 12:9 that struck me. The Greek of verse
9 hit me in a whole new way. In verse 9, Paul writes, “The Lord said to me,
"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."
I
suppose the word ‘weakness’ is what really caught my attention. The word in
Greek has the connotation of powerlessness, illness, handicap, helplessness—you
get the point. And don’t you think that it is striking that Paul celebrates his
weakness, his powerlessness?
I
mean, can you imagine doing something like this this? Can you imagine celebrating
your incapacity, your physical limitations? Celebrating your powerlessness,
your weaknesses? Is Paul crazy? Can you imagine rejoicing in your disease, your
sickness, depression or inadequacy? Celebrating powerlessness seems so contrary
to being…to being…human. And especially contrary to being American.
I
can’t think of one successful Hollywood action film that celebrates weakness. I
mean, can you imagine Bruce Willis or Matt Damon boasting about being powerless?
No way. Can you imagine doing a status update on Facebook that goes something
like this: “Hunter Camp… rejoices in his aching left knee that keeps him from winning
a foot race against his son.”
No
way. We Americans celebrate strength—we love the strong and powerful; as a
culture, we have little abiding sympathy for the weak and powerless. In
American culture, just like the ancient Greco-Roman culture, power is not made perfect in weakness.
When Paul wrote, "My grace is
sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness," Paul was sending a counter cultural message. The
church in Corinth would have been shocked to hear Paul boast about his
limitations. And yet, something in my experience suggests that Paul may be
right. Strength can be found in powerlessness. God’s kindness and grace can become
our muscles when the circumstances in life beat us down.
On Tuesday, April 3 of 2010 I was
diagnosed with a large tumor in my left deltoid. The tumor was very deep. It
was wrapped around my humerus. My doctors at the Mayo Clinic thought the tumor,
because of the depth and position, was malignant. In fact, one radiologist, a
friend, confided in me and said, “It doesn’t look good, Hunter.”
After
surgery and spending the night at Mayo, I was discharged with a sling and a
long incision down my shoulder. My instructions were to rest, do physical
therapy, and wait for the pathology, which is a miracle story for another day.
Anyhow,
the Sunday after my surgery I decided I was fit enough to lead worship and help
serve Communion. With one hand I held the chalice as people came forward. As my
parishioners dipped their wafer into the cup they looked at me with great love
and gentleness. They exuded God’s kindness.
It was during that Holy Communion that
I came to understand Paul’s words: “The Lord said to me, "My grace is
sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."
In the
faces of those people, young and old, I came to see the all sufficient benevolence
of God—the God we know in Jesus Christ. I came to see that suffering can be a
crucible for personal-transformation. I came to see that during the struggles
of life, in the times of suffering, this is where we often encounter God’s
presence. For when we are weak God’s strength becomes evident.
Now,
I don’t have any plans to boast about my many personal experiences of
powerlessness. But this I will say, and I will say it with all the conviction
and confidence in the world: through God’s power, weakness and powerlessness can
become strength. And this power of God’s is
worth boasting about.
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