Word of Salvation – Vol.52 No.37 – October 2007

 

The Weakness Of God’s Servants – by Rev. Dr. Steve Voorwinde

Text: 2Corinthians 12:9.

Scripture Readings: 1Corinthians 1:18-2:5; 2Corinthians 12:1-10.

 

Introduction:

The Lord said to Paul: My power is made perfect in weakness.

This is one of the central paradoxes in the Christian life.

You see it when a believer is struck down with a life-threatening illness, and the Lord uses the testimony of that person to bring others to faith.

You see it when a church is small and struggling to survive and cries out to the Lord for help. The Lord hears their prayer and sends revival.

You see it when a child of God dies and the Lord uses that death so that other family members are converted.

It’s precisely in situations like this that God’s word proves to be so remarkably true: My power is made perfect in weakness. Many believers know it’s true because they have experienced it in their own lives. And yet how does this work? What are we to learn from experiences like this? How does God turn weakness into strength?

For an answer to that question there is no better place to turn than to Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. If that letter has a central theme, it’s surely this – that God’s strength is displayed through our weakness. That’s one of the central paradoxes of the Christian life – strength through weakness. Paul summed it up so beautifully at the end of our passage: When I am weak, then I am strong. But how? How do we unravel this paradox? How do we understand it?

To understand what Paul is saying, we need to appreciate the background against which he is writing. He is writing to the Corinthians, a church which he had founded five or six years earlier. Paul had put a lot of pastoral effort into this church. Initially he had been with them for 18 months. Since he left Corinth he had written them several letters. He had addressed all sorts of ugly problems like disunity, incest, fornication, and the abuse of spiritual gifts. Finally it seemed that the church was settling down. Order had been restored. Discipline had been exercised. The relationship between the apostle and the church was again one of mutual love and respect.

But it seems that in the final section of 2 Corinthians, in chapters 10-13, Paul is addressing a fresh problem. Some Jewish Christians have come to Corinth with a new teaching. They did not preach the strength-through-weakness Gospel that had been proclaimed by Paul. They brought with them a self-confident and triumphalistic Christianity. They were all into eloquent speech, into signs and wonders, and into visions and revelations. Their emphasis was on stellar performance and they had a flair for the spectacular. I don’t have to remind you that their spiritual descendants are still with us today.

Now how does Paul tackle this new problem? He does something that he hates to do. He starts boasting about his own experience. He admits it’s a foolish thing to do, but they have forced him into it. Listen again to the remarkable words of the first four verses of our passage:

I must go on boasting. Although there is nothing to be gained, I will go on to visions and revelations from the Lord. 2 I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know-God knows. 3 And I know that this man-whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows- 4 was caught up to paradise. He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell.

In a veiled way Paul is talking about himself. He is very modest about it. But in effect he is saying that fourteen years ago, before any of his three missionary journeys, the Lord had given him a most glorious experience. It was enough to put those intruders in Corinth in the shade. He had visions and revelations that would have left them for dead. He had experienced what other Christians experience only after death. He was taken up into heaven – into the highest heaven in fact. It was an ecstatic experience. It left him speechless. He didn’t even know whether it was an in-the- body or out-of-the-body experience.

Now don’t you wish that Paul had been more specific? Don’t you wish that he had given us more details? Couldn’t he have given us just a little glimpse of what heaven is like? Wouldn’t that have been a great comfort for any believer as they face the last days of life here on earth? Wouldn’t that give him something more definite to look forward to? Wouldn’t that be reassuring for any Christian confronting death?

Maybe so, but that’s not Paul’s point here. He is very reserved in the way he speaks about his heavenly experience. He refers to himself indirectly as “a man in Christ”. He doesn’t really want to boast about it. He doesn’t want to dwell on it. And why not? Because he knows that such boasting could lead to spiritual pride. He knows that such boasting would be an expression of spiritual pride. That mysterious and wonderful heavenly experience could have given him an inflated ego. That was precisely the problem of the false teachers that had invaded the church at Corinth. Their wonderful spiritual experiences had gone to their head. And their swelled heads were a sure sign of their spiritual immaturity.

God had made sure that that didn’t happen to Paul. From the mountain-top Paul is plunged into the valley. He goes from the third heaven to the thorn. To prevent spiritual pride, to stop him from becoming puffed up, the Lord pricked the bubble of an inflated ego before it even had time to take shape. He allowed Paul to be afflicted with a thorn in the flesh.

But what was Paul’s thorn in the flesh? What was that “messenger of Satan” that was sent to torment Paul? Was it some sort of medical condition? Or was it some form of spiritual temptation? Scholars have come up with a host of suggestions:

Those who favour a medical explanation have suggested:

Epilepsy

Headaches, perhaps severe migraine headaches

Malaria

Leprosy

Times of depression

Eye trouble

A speech impediment, such as stammering

Those who look for an answer in a spiritual direction come up with a similar smorgasbord of suggestions:

Paul suffered pangs of conscience

He experienced distressed states of mind

He was troubled by the anxieties of a missionary’s life

Perhaps it was the persecution he suffered.

What do we do with a host of suggestions like that? When scholars come up with such a vast array of different possibilities, it’s a sure sign that they don’t really know. And that precisely is the point. Many people have guessed, but we simply don’t know what Paul’s thorn in the flesh really was. Was it physical? We don’t know. Was it medical? We don’t know. Was it spiritual? Again, we don’t know. And just as well! Perhaps God in his wisdom and providence has not allowed even the best expositors of Scripture to define what Paul meant by his thorn. We don’t know what the thorn was, and in this case ignorance is truly a blessing.

Just think about it. Paul’s thorn has been a source of comfort and encouragement to millions of Christians down the ages:

Those suffering terminal cancer have taken comfort from it.

Those suffering heart disease have taken comfort from it.

Those suffering bipolar disorder have taken comfort from it.

Those who have had to endure a fruitless and difficult ministry have taken comfort from it.

But now imagine that some Bible interpreter had come along and proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that Paul’s thorn was epilepsy or poor eyesight, then none of those people might have applied Paul’s thorn to their situation. The pastoral value of Paul’s thorn has been so great precisely because we don’t know exactly what it was.

Who doesn’t have some thorn in the flesh? I am sure that you too have some thorn in the flesh from which you would love to be released. Yet God keeps it there so that you will be more humble and fruitful in his service. Perhaps your thorn is a weakness that you have. Perhaps it is a disease that you have, or perhaps it’s your migraines, or maybe it’s your poor education, or sorrow in your family life. For one man that I read about it was the fact that he was an illegitimate child. It caused him shame, and yet at the same time it developed his sympathy and enriched his ministry.

Whatever your thorn may be, I believe that in this passage you will find comfort, you will find strength, and you will find consolation. Whatever that messenger of Satan may have been that so tormented Paul, it was under God’s control and he used it for his servant’s good. So that’s the first point. The first lesson from this passage is the fact that it was not Paul’s vision of heaven, but Paul’s thorn in the flesh, that has brought strength and comfort to untold millions of people down the centuries.

But now we come to the second main lesson. The Paul who had the thorn in the flesh, the thorn that pricked the bubble of his pride, that Paul is now also able to pray.

And how often isn’t that true? Our thorn not only deflates our ego, it also drives us to the presence of God. The same was true of Paul when he was tormented by his thorn in the flesh. In verse 8 he says, Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. Notice that this is not some routine, mechanical little prayer that Paul trotted out. He pleaded with the Lord. This was emotional heart-rending stuff. This was fervent, earnest prayer from an apostle. And this pleading happened three times. We are reminded of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Three times he prayed to his Father that the cup might pass from him. But it was not to be. Jesus had to drink to the dregs the cup that the Father put before him. With Paul it was no different. His thorn was not taken away.

Here we come face to face with the problem of unanswered prayer. God may not always answer our specific requests. But he is our Father, and he does respond to the cry of our hearts:

Monica was the mother of Augustine. He turned out to be one of the greatest church fathers of ancient times. But as a young man he was an immoral rebel. His mother prayed fervently that he might not go to Rome. She feared that in that moral cesspool, Augustine would drift further into sin. Yet it was his trip to Rome that brought him closer to Milan where he met Ambrose and where he was converted. The Lord did not answer Monica’s request, but he responded to the cry of her heart.

That’s sometimes the way the Lord deals with us, when he doesn’t seem to be answering our prayers. A poem that I came across many years ago puts it like this:

We ask for strength that we might achieve;

We are made weak that we might obey.

We ask for health that we might do greater things,

We are given infirmity that we may do better things.

We ask for power that we may win the praise of men,

We are given weakness that we may feel our need of God.

Even so, unanswered prayer is a mystery that sometimes we can never fathom. What if you pray and pray, and still there is no answer. What is the Lord saying then? It’s the same as what he said to Paul all those many years ago: My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness (verse 9). That is God’s answer to us all, no matter what our thorn in the flesh may be. And this is the third and main point for the sermon today. God’s answer lies in his grace and in his power:

The first answer always lies with God’s grace. And grace is just such an amazing word. It’s more than generosity. It’s more than forgiveness. It’s been defined as God’s unmerited favour. That definition is accurate, but it’s still a bit cold and colourless. So let me give you an illustration. It comes from the Korean War of the early 1950s. During that war there was village which like many others had changed hands several times. Now it was in the hands of the Communists. Now it was in the hands of the Allies. In that village there lived a Christian man who had two sons. When it was in Communist hands those two sons were brutally murdered. When the village was retaken by the South two men were arraigned before a military court and charged with their murder. But the Christian man pleaded for a stay of execution. He would legally adopt these two Communists to be his very own sons. The request was granted, and those two Communist murderers became this man’s legally adopted sons. What these two men received was unmerited favour. It was pure grace.

That was the same kind of grace that Paul received. It’s as though the Lord was saying: “Paul, my grace is sufficient for you. Remember, Paul, you were a persecutor of the church, and not only did I forgive you, Paul, I made you my apostle to the Gentiles. That’s my grace, Paul, and that’s enough.”

You see, when you recognise God’s grace, then even your thorn in the flesh falls into place. It too can be put into its proper perspective, when it’s seen from the vantage point of God’s grace. I was once speaking to a Bible College student. He was a Scotsman who had migrated to Australia several years before. At one point in his life he had become destitute. What he said about that period in his life has stuck in my mind ever since: “When I had nothing left but God, then I knew that God was enough.” God is enough. God’s grace is enough. “My grace is sufficient for you.” Even though nothing may change, that in itself is an answer to prayer.

God’s grace is enough and yet there is more: My power is made perfect in weakness. That’s the second principle when it comes to unanswered prayer. You pray and pray, but your thorn is not taken away. You are learning that great lesson, that God’s power is made perfect in weakness. That’s the mighty theme that dominates 2 Corinthians. It’s also a theme that runs all the way through Scripture: God’s power is made perfect in weakness:

Just before the sermon we sang Psalm 8. Did you notice the words of the second stanza?

Infant voices chant your praise Telling of your glorious ways.

Weakest means work out your will.

Mighty enemies to still.

How great your name!

When Jacob returned to Canaan from his uncle Laban, he had enjoyed every earthly success. He was the head of a prosperous household and he had huge flocks of sheep and goats. But when he entered the land of promise, he does not come in as the strong man Jacob. He comes limping in as the weak man Israel. He had wrestled with God.

Later it was not Moses the prince who delivered Israel, but Moses the shepherd. He was slow of speech, but God used him. His disability did not disqualify him, but actually qualified him for the task.

In the case of Gideon it was not the 32,000, but the 300 that defeated an enemy horde of 135,000 men. Gideon was stripped of all human resources, so that the glory might go to God. God’s power was made perfect in Gideon’s weakness.

And what could be weaker than a man dying on a cross? What could be a more pitiful sight than Jesus languishing on Calvary? Three times he had prayed that this cup might be removed from him. But now even Jesus is learning the lesson that God’s power is made perfect in weakness. Jesus was weak, pitifully weak, so weak that he died. But where else do we see the power of God more eloquently displayed than in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ? The preaching of Christ is foolishness to the world, but to those who are called it is the power of God. On the cross of Christ we have the clearest example of the truth that God’s power is made perfect in our weakness.

Are you personally beginning to learn that lesson – that God’s power is made perfect in weakness? Are you aware of your own weakness? Or do you feel quite capable to live the Christian life, thank you very much? Perhaps you feel quite competent in the job that you are doing as an elder or as a Sunday School teacher, or as a Christian parent. If that describes you, then let me say this – God can’t use you! If you feel this way, you cannot even mature in the Christian life. God will only use those who are broken, who are weak and who come to him for strength.

The Lutheran commentator Richard Lenski has an important point to make here. Listen to what he says:

When God’s power has brought us to the point where we are utter weakness, its task is finished. It has then shaped us into a perfect tool for itself. As long as we sinners imagine that we still have some power, we are unfit instruments for the Lord’s hands. He still has to do work on us before He can properly work through us.

A short poem expresses the same truth very simply:

It is a secret joy to find The task assigned beyond our powers,

For then if any good is done,

Clearly the praise is God’s, not ours.

In the Christian life have you learned yet that God’s power is made perfect in your weakness? Do you know what it is to be broken before God, to be weak before God, to be humbled before God – and then to be used by God? That has always been the experience of those who have been used by God in a great way:

When Martin Luther stood before his accusers at the Council of Worms, he declared: “Here I stand. I can do no other. So help me God!”

One of the greatest evangelists of the nineteenth century was D. L. Moody. He had no formal education. His letters were full of grammatical errors. His voice was high pitched and his tone was nasal. A newspaper reporter once wrote: “I can see nothing whatever in Moody to account for his marvellous work.”

When Moody read those words he chuckled: “Why, that is the very secret of the movement. There is nothing in it that can explain it but the power of God. The work is God’s, not mine.”

The last example comes from the life of someone who is not as well-known. Francis Tucker was a brilliant young officer with the Indian Civil Service in the days of the British Empire. But he became dissatisfied with his self-centered life and threw in his lot with the newly formed Salvation Army. He longed to be able to minister to the morally and spiritually destitute people around him. But despite his most sacrificial efforts, he seemed unable to bridge the gap between himself and the needy Indian people. He was failing to achieve the very thing for which he had given up his promising career. Finally he decided to adopt native dress, took a begging bowl and lived on what the poor people chose to give him.

One day after walking barefoot with a missionary companion through the summer heat, they arrived at a village blistered and in agony. But they were denied entry. Thoroughly dispirited they lay down under a tree and fell asleep. In his book Spiritual Maturity J. Oswald Sanders continues the story:

While they slept some of the men gathered around them. One, amazed to see the blisters on their feet, said, ‘How much these men must care for us to suffer in this way to bring us their message. They must be good men and we have treated them badly.’ When the missionaries awoke, they were welcomed into the village. Food and drink were spread before them. Then followed the coveted opportunity of presenting the Gospel message to these members of a criminal tribe. Thus began a movement which swept 25,000 into the kingdom. It was not his undoubted brilliance but his obvious weakness which opened the hearts of the people. When he was weak, then he was strong. His weakness became God’s weapon. God’s strength was perfected in his weakness. (p.48).

God’s power is made perfect in weakness. That was true not just in Bible times – for Gideon, Paul and Jesus. It has always been true. It was true for Martin Luther and D. L. Moody and Francis Tucker. It is also true for you. Are you willing to let the Lord use you in your weakness? As you willing for you thorn to remain so that your weakness can become the platform for God’s power and God’s grace? When you are weak in yourselves, you can become a showcase for God. That already happened with Paul. Are you also prepared to let it happen to you? Are you content to let God’s answer to you?

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.