Paul, I read your statement, “when I am weak,” like I would say, “when I am tired,” or “when I am hungry.” But if I say, “when I am hungry,” I’m communicating there are times that I am not hungry, times that I wouldn’t be tempted by a bacon cheese burger. But when I read your statement, Paul, I ask right away, “when am I not weak?” Take any aspect of who I am and honestly assess it, and I am left with the obvious conclusion—I am weak.
I am physically weak. I know I started my life weak. Just like every other baby, I needed help to accomplish anything. I couldn’t hold my head up, feed myself, or relieve myself without help. And I know that if in God’s grace I am given several more decades of life, there is a good chance the final days of my life will be just like that. But even right now, in the middle of life, when I should be at peak physical strength, I am weak. Every day my body literally shuts down for about a third of the day. Even the pinnacle of my physical strength is laughable. Just a few days ago, I used all of my strength to transport myself on a bike 76 miles. But that evidence of strength only allowed me to traverse 0.003% around one of the billions of celestial bodies God created. And in all honesty, I’m cheating on those 76 miles because I’m using God’s gravity to assist me down every slight decline in the road. So, yeah, I am weak.
I am mentally weak. I know I have a collection of tassels that represent academic achievements, but all my knowledge would only fill a few shelves in the library of knowledge that humanity has gained. I repeatedly have to answer my children’s questions with a shoulder shrug and “I don’t know,” and their questions are easier than any question on the exam God gave to Job. My knowledge of God’s creation is limited, and my study of God ends with questions and mysteries. I am weak.
I am weak when I measure my resources, Paul. My net worth I know is way higher than yours, and for sure Jesus’ when he was on the earth and didn’t even own a pillow. My net worth puts me in the top quarter of the world in wealth. With the resources I have on hand, I can feed my family more than just our daily bread, and I can purchase our needs of daily bread and quite a few luxuries. And yet compared to God, who spoke into existence the elements like gold that we assign worth to, I am weak.
I am weak relationally. God has given me a loving wife, children, family, church, and friends. People that I love the most in the world. People who are the closest to me. But because they are the closest to me, have been in contact with me the most, they are the ones whom I have sinned against the most.
I am weak spiritually. God gave me wise and good commands about loving Him and others, and I foolishly over and over again choose loving myself. God gave me sweetness of fellowship with Him through His Word and prayer, and I ignore it or rush through it. I talk about battling sin, but in reality there are days I should simply say that I relish my sin. I doubt what is sure. I cherish what is temporary. I ignore what is a treasure. I strive to build my laughable little kingdom. I am weak.
So, Paul, you say, “when I am weak,” but I ask, when am I not weak? But that is the point, though, right? You are not saying, “when I am weak,” as if you think there are days or even hours that you qualify to be put on the same team as Superman. I know you are not thinking of your nights sitting in jail as times you were weak, and the times you are up powerfully preaching in Corinth as the times you were strong. We are always weak. We have a lifetime diagnosis as weak.
The key is not whether or not I am weak today. The key is, do I know I am weak? Do I live with the reality that I am weak, or do I wake up with the delusion that today I can live and thrive as a child of God, a husband, parent, and pastor on the illusion of my own strength?
There are times that God brings hardships into my life that strip away my resources and what is remaining of my physical strength is used up to shed tears, and in those moments I for sure know I am weak. God has brought difficulties in my life that quickly exhaust my wisdom and reveal my weakness. There are times that insults are offered up that are filled with truth about my weakness, but lack love behind them, so I am left feeling weak. Paul, I don’t think anything I’ve experienced could be called a thorn in the flesh as you mentioned, but even a virus the size of a few dozen nanometers wipes me out and puts me in my bed for a few days. All these things provide irrefutable evidence to me that I am always weak, there are just times that I am faced with it more.
The hope, though, is that when I know I am weak is when I can actually find strength. It is when I am fully convinced that I am weak that I view God’s Word as a life-giving IV of spiritual strength that I am convinced I desperately need constantly dripping into my heart. It is when I know that I am weak that prayer is no longer a chore but becomes a part of my subconscious breathing. It is when I know I am completely weak that having other Christians in my life isn’t an inconvenience to my life but an essential to my safety.
So I pray, Father, as I face the beginning of a new season of ministry, I begin by declaring that I am weak. Not that there will be times I can handle things, but I’m glad I have you on call to call when it becomes too hard for me. No, I am always weak. I approach the responsibility of pastoring without any notion that I can accomplish it on my own. I look at our purpose of making and maturing disciples, of line upon line of prayer requests, of a community in need of the gospel, and I don’t think, “I am strong.” No, I think, “I am weak.” I am a weak shepherd and am dependent on strength from you. And I look forward to how your power will work in your church for your glory.
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