Monday, September 08, 2008
Gloriously Frail
Watching the Olympics always makes me feel a little bit like a wimp. (My family confirms that this feeling is valid.) During the games, Mom piped up, "Hey... why don't they have an Olympics for normal people, too?""What do you mean, 'normal people'? You mean... weak people? Like us?"
It took us a moment or two after recovering from laughter, but we understood what she meant: The Olympians are extraordinarily strong.
Personally, I like the idea; if I entered the "Slowest Mile", my little sister says I might have a chance at the gold.
But weakness isn't ever celebrated in reality. In fact, we tend to hate it. Whenever I take a long, hard look at what I have to offer God, I feel useless and insignificant-- empty of anything to offer other people, let alone service to God. How foolish for me to think of impacting the world for Christ, when there are countless other, "qualified" men and women walking around. It's really quite depressing, isn't it? (Just grab a scone, pass the butter, and feel free to join the pity-party.)
The irony: God intends my weakness to rank among my greatest, deepest joys.
A Pathetic Bunch of Weaklings
A cowardly, rash Hebrew, whose knees shook at the thought of talking to crowds, and whose leadership skills fell notably short of the spectacular. A diminutive, inexperienced, absurdly confident shepherd/harpist boy. A timid, skeptical young man from an unimportant family. Throw in a handful of liars, and an immoral woman-- welcome to Hebrew's hall of fame. What a sorry bunch, those men and women that God used.
We're familiar their names, now: Moses, David, Gideon, Rahab, Abraham and Jacob. But you've got to admit that their resumes wouldn't have exactly made them the most likely candidates to be listed as "heroes of the faith." And don't forget the group of poor nobody's--including fishermen and a tax collector--who spent their free time talking smack about who was the greatest.
When I look throughout the Old and New Testaments, I notice a shocking commonality among the people that God called. They're so very relatable; so very human. So very, very weak.
Moses grappled with serious doubts about his own adequacy for the task God appointed him to. When God commanded him to deliver the Israelites, it doesn't sound like Moses was straining at the bit. No, he had an objection: "I have never been eloquent... I am slow of speech and tongue." And yet, slow tongue and all, God took the quaking Moses and displayed His power mightily through him.
Then there was Gideon. I love his story--the sheer, marvelous unexpectedness of it all compels me to worship. (It may be familiar, but consider reading the whole story again. Take it in as if for the first time, and you'll find yourself in awe of God at the end.)
Gideon himself confessed to being "the least in his family." His clan was the least powerful and influential in Manasseh-- and he was, quite plainly, sick-to-his-stomach terrified of God using him.
Still, God chose little Gideon to deliver the nation of Israel from Midian. No small task, considering that Midian's army was so numerous that "it was impossible to count the men and their camels". Oh, yes, and Gideon had just thirty-two thousand men. Against the Midianites, the Amalekites, and all the other eastern tribes.
So (naturally), God decided to pare Gideon's army down a bit. He told Gideon, "You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into your hands. In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength has saved her..." And poof, twenty-two thousand warriors were dismissed, just like that. You have to wonder what Gideon was thinking as he watched God deplete his pitiful army even further, and saw the last man disappear in the distance.
The Lord said to Gideon, "There are still too many men. With three hundred men... I will save you and give the Midianites into your hands. Let all the other men go, each to his own place."
Loving Weakness (for the Glory of God)
When you read Paul's letters, it's abundantly evident that he was enraptured with God's glory. Everything he writes tends back to that one, over-riding theme. However, there's something else that we might overlook: the connection with Paul's lack of strength.
Now, when we envision the apostle Paul, we usually tend to think of a dynamic, magnetic personality. Not quite-- in 1 Corinthians 2:3-5, Paul explains how God desired to use his weakness to reach the men and women in Corinth. He writes,
"I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on men's wisdom, but on God's power."
Backing up a chapter, in 1 Corinthians 1:26-31, Paul opens his letter by addressing the believers in Corinth rather bluntly:
"Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things... so that no one may boast before Him. Therefore, as it is written: "Let him who boasts boast in the Lord."If you're lacking strength, Paul has great news: God delights to use the weak. In fact, that's the only sort of person that He ever does use. Where else is His magnificent power manifest, except in those who must rely fully on Him?
There's a flip-side to this, too. Whenever I start to launch off into an hour-long mental recitation of my failures, inadequacies, and weaknesses, and whenever I start to ask, "How can God use me? Why should He? I'm such a mess..." I'm invariably wading three feet deep in pride.
First off: Whose glory am I honestly concerned with? Christ's, or mine? If it's really Christ's, then why should I care if people don't find me amazing? Why should it matter to me if my name is forgotten?
There are only two options for my motivations in my service to God. Either I desire attention to be directed toward myself and my own capabilities, or I desire God to be magnified, worshipped, revered, and adored. The two goals cannot co-exist; it is impossible for me to be proudly preoccupied with how others perceive me while claiming a desire for God's glorification.
Secondly: Who am I to limit the power of God, in my arrogance? By specifying the kind of person that I think He should use, and the kind of person that should be most effective for Him, I'm doubting His capability to use anything and anyone for His name's sake.
You cannot be too weak, or too small, for God to use you; that isn't what we need to fear. You can, however, become too self-reliant in your strength, and too great (or too small) in your own eyes, for God to have any use for you. We need to fear self-reliance and self-importance, not weakness. Weakness is God's precious gift.
"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. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10
Oswald Chambers said something very profound: "If Jesus ever gave us a command He could not enable us to fulfill, He would be a liar; and if we make our inability a barrier to obedience, it means we are telling God there is something He has not taken into account. Every element of self-reliance must be slain by the power of God. Complete weakness and dependence will always be the occasion for the Spirit of God to manifest His power." Always.
Enabled by His grace, let's delight in our utter weakness-- and His utter strength.
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