Discovering Strength Through Weakness

Strength. We admire those who have it, and those who don’t have it desire it. Before Arnold Schwarzenegger became a motion picture star and then governor of California, he was a body builder with muscles rippling all over his body. His physical strength translated into prominence in the worlds of both entertainment and politics.

 

I remember as a boy seeing comic book ads featuring the “100-pound weakling” and how renowned body builder Charles Atlas’s training could transform him into a force to be reckoned with. As a society, and as a nation, we’ve always been enamored with strength: Military might; political power; financial influence; social clout.

But have you ever considered that being weakness – being weak – isn’t necessarily a bad thing?

 

In many areas of life, the “can-do” spirit is commendable. ‘I can do it!’ ‘I’ve got this!’ But sooner or later we’ll encounter times when our honest response is, “I can’t do this! I give up!” We hate being in that position, but experience has taught me that when I’ve reached the point of “I can’t!”, God is eager to respond, “I know you can’t. But I can!”

 

I could recount numerous times, at various stages of my life, when I’d reached the end of my proverbial rope. I had tried and done everything I could. Then, out of options and at the brink of despair, it was like God telling me, “Okay, now see what I can do.” As lo and behold, as old versions of the Bible would say, I found the Lord truly doing “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20). 

 

Sometimes He met my needs by working through me; sometimes He did it in spite of me. Many times God’s message to us in times of crisis is, “Get out of the way and watch Me work.” In circumstances like these, He showed me that self-reliance isn’t the path to spiritual growth and maturity.

 

Toward the end of His earthly ministry, Jesus Christ taught His disciples a crucial lesson, using a grapevine as a metaphor. He told them, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing…. This is to My Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be My disciples” (John 15:5-8).

 

We enjoy looking at fruit trees and the different types of fruit they can bear – apples, oranges, peaches, grapefruit. Their fruits hang gloriously from the tree limbs, but the limbs by themselves can accomplish nothing. They must be attached to the trunk of the tree, from which they literally receive their life and productivity.

 

It’s the same for followers of Jesus. We can strive as hard as we like, but without His Spirit working in us and through us, we can’t achieve anything of eternal value.

 

The apostle Paul knew this all too well. As Saul, a leading Pharisee zealously persecuting the pesky “Christians” who were viewed as heretics, he had often flexed his strength and influence physically, politically and religiously. However, after His life-changing encounter with Jesus enroute to Damascus, he was undone. God was about to teach him about a very different kind of strength.

 

Years later, writing to believers in ancient Corinth, Paul stated, “To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me…. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).

 

This wasn’t just a one-time observation either. Writing to a different group of Christ followers, Paul reflected on the various hardships and challenges he had faced and then declared, “I can do everything through [Christ] who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

 

Are you facing something today that has taken you to your limits, beyond your capacity to handle or resolve? If not now, maybe you will tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Sooner or later such times come to us all. We can shake our fists and curse the devil, but that doesn’t do any good. Those are usually occasions when we can truly experience God’s power at work, building our trust and deepening our faith in Him.

At times such as those, we have no choice but to apply the truth of what both Jesus and Paul asserted: “Apart from Me you can do nothing,” and “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” As the apostle noted, weakness isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Abiding – That Wonderful Feeling of Being Home

Even if we enjoy traveling, isn’t it nice at the conclusion of a trip to be able to fall into our own bed? There’s something comforting about being “home.” But after we’ve been home for a while, we lose that sense of “I’m home,” or “this is my bed.” Why is that? It’s because we’re abiding.

 

A dictionary definition of “abide” is to stay or remain, to live or continue in a place. Because of constancy and familiarity, we’re not always conscious of where we are abiding, or think about being home. I suspect fish don't think a lot about existing permanently in water; it’s their living environment. Now if someone pulls them out of the water, that's a different matter.

 

Think about breathing. We do it continually – we don’t have to remind ourselves every morning, “Okay, now start breathing.” We’re not aware of it unless we become short of breath, like after a run or vigorous exercise. If we’re chronically short of breath, we know that can be symptomatic of a serious health issue.

 

We also tend to take our joints for granted. They enable us to walk, we bend them, use them to grab or pick up things. We hardly notice them – until we injure them. Then we’re suddenly aware of our thumbs, or knees, shoulders or ankles.

 

I remember the time years ago when I was driving back into town after a trip to Atlanta. Traffic stopped suddenly for some reason. Glancing into my rear-view mirror, I noticed a vehicle approaching that didn’t seem to be slowing. Having nowhere to go, I instinctively laid on my car’s horn, hoping to get the other driver’s attention. It worked, and the vehicle came to a screeching halt just inches from my car’s rear bumper. But I managed to sprain my thumb in the frantic process.

 

Over the succeeding weeks, as my thumb slowly healed, I became very aware of how dependent I am on it – for turning a doorknob, tying shoes, holding onto things, other simple tasks I do without thinking about them. I had never realized what a gift it is to have what zoologists call an “opposable thumb.”

 

The experience was similar when I tore the meniscus – cushioning cartilage – in my left knee. Although I had been an avid power-walker, suddenly I couldn’t walk anywhere without feeling a stabbing pain in my knee. Before I had outpatient surgery to correct the injury, I told my surgeon, “If I had known I had a meniscus, I would have been more careful not to tear it!”

 

The point is, we spend much of our lives abiding – simply remaining or continuing in a certain state, often not even consciously aware of things so vital for us. I believe this is why Jesus Christ so emphatically explained why learning to abide is so important for our relationship with Him. 

 

Jesus and His followers might have been walking past a vineyard when He said:

“I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit…. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing” (John 15:1-5).

 

This is something we don’t hear enough about – abiding in Christ. We talk about doing things for Him, serving Him, even “going to the Lord in prayer.” But we rarely ponder what it means to “abide in Christ,” so much that we’re not even conscious of it. What does that look like? I suspect the apostle Paul had this in mind when he explained to contemplative philosophers in ancient Athens, “For in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

 

In one of the daily meditations from My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers states, “If we will come to Him, asking Him to produce Christ-awareness in us, He will always do it, until we fully learn to abide in Him.” In another passage, Chambers says, “The one true sign of discipleship is oneness with Him – a knowledge of Jesus that nothing can shake.”

 

Years ago, the saying, “WWJD – What Would Jesus Do?” made its rounds, appearing on T-shirts and bracelets, and becoming the topic of countless books, articles and sermons. It seemed like a good idea, a reminder to filter our actions through that consideration. However, if we’re abiding in Christ as He urged us to do, should we always need to stop and think, “Now, um, what would Jesus do in this situation?”

 

If we’re living and moving and having our being in the Lord, as Acts 17:28 supposes, doing what Jesus does and thinking as He thinks shouldn’t always demand a conscious, intentional act, any more than breathing or making our hearts beat. That’s not saying it’s easy, but as we walk with Christ day after day, it should become less necessary to wrack our brains trying to figure out what He expects of us.

 

When Jesus was teaching His disciples about what it means to abide in Him, He included a statement that indicated even their prayers would be influenced by their growing intimacy with Him. “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you” (John 15:7). If we’re truly abiding with Christ, it will shape the things we ask of Him. That’s not a bad arrangement.