Den of Thieves

I recently found myself in the Atlanta airport with my wife and son. We were eating in one of the more popular sandwich shops located in the sprawling concourse. We sat down and I overheard two employees talking about a recent event that had caused a stir at the restaurant.

It seems that a physician accidentally left a briefcase in the eatery the week before and the briefcase, which wasn’t locked, harbored the modern equivalent to a pirate’s trove.

The conversation between the fast food employees went like this:

“You hear about the briefcase that was left here last week?”

“Yeah. I heard. And some fool turned the thing in. You believe that?”

“That was me, I woulda kept that thing!”

“Hell yeah. Thing had 70 Ben Franklins in it!”

I’d kept that thing. Got me some new clothes.”

“Yeah, man. The fool turned the thing in.”

“Crazy, man, crazy.”

“Better is a poor person who walks in his integrity than one who is crooked,” says the book of Proverbs. Is this ancient opinion debatable? It must be or we would not see — on such a vast scale that defies race and class — fraud, stealing and embezzlement. And while I have told my share of “white” lies, and stolen a lollipop at 12 years of age to impress the wrong crowd, I do believe there is a social consequence when we are less than truthful.

Shakespeare said, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” If this is true, why would two gainfully employed men talk about keeping $70,000 dollars that does not belong to them? I grew up hearing Benjamin Franklin’s pithy saying, “Honesty is the best policy,” which is akin to a religious sentiment found in the Q’uran: “God will reward honest people for their honesty.” I can’t help but wonder, however, if we no longer hold the conviction expressed by Franklin or believe in the idea that God rewards people for doing what is right, especially when doing wrong is more profitable.

Though Benjamin Franklin coined his phrase 200 years ago, I am not naive enough to believe that people were, at an earlier time, more humane, honest and virtuous. The ancient commandment, “Thou shalt not steal,” proves as much.

Is it me or does dishonesty appear to be growing in every strata of our nation? From Washington to Tallahassee, and from homes to schools, dishonesty, it seems, is the new best policy. I am convinced that we parents must do a better job of instilling honesty in our children. Clergy must do a better job. Our elected officials must do a better job. Corporate leaders must do better job. We must try to model honesty. For a nation, community, religious organization—or corporation that does not stridently condemn dishonesty is nothing but a den of thieves; the treasure they — we — plunder is truth. And, as someone once remarked, “There is no worse theft than that of truth.”

The Power of Weakness

            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.