Sufficiency

"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." --2 Corinthians 12:9

I've quoted this verse because it is essentially the reverse of what the world, and even the church, values today. Paul is open when he writes this. Paul is honest. He never considered himself to be anything grand; he knew he had problems, and even called himself the least of the apostles, despite writing approximately half of the new testament. The only thing that Paul was was obedient. That was why he was so revered. That was why washcloths he had used healed people. He wanted the power of Christ and wasn't interested in faking his preeminence.

I think those of us who are a part of the Church grow largely disillusioned. Years of history, the selfish ambitions of man, and the Enemy have led to a great deal of false Gospels--Gospels where Christ becomes a means to the end of happiness, wealth, prosperity, and even virtue. But perhaps the greatest trick of the Devil is to make those of us who believe afraid to walk in what we know to be true, the true Gospel.

I've been reading a great deal of C.S. Lewis lately. In one of his greatest works, "The Screwtape Letters," he writes a series of correspondence between two demons--a senior official and his nephew who is a novice tempter. Clearly, as Lewis points out, the demons are always looking to entrap their subjects into some great sin. But far more often their strategy is one of false belief, mixing up the issues, and complaceny. Screwtape advises his nephew Wordwood to instill in his subject's mind the words "Puritan" and "Democratic" to force the man to keep from striving for discipline and virue. He tries to keep him focused on the historical Jesus' acts in order to keep him from considering the reality of Christ's death and gift. And he encourages denominational splits.

And that is why I've quoted the Scripture above. The Church as a whole has moved away from openness and honesty. If I see you in the pew, and you ask me how my day's going, I feel obligated to tell you any little white lie ranging from "fine" to "good" to "all right"--anything to keep you from discovering the fact that I'm struggling with sin or doubt or fear. And this, at large, is a great danger. It causes us not to need each other any longer. It causes us to be the "Lone Ranger Christian" that is so often preached against despite that fact that we're sitting through sermons every Sunday and Wednesday (Or Saturday for you Adventist folks).

Paul in this scripture is being honest. He is open. He is "confessing his sin one to another" in order to be healed. He is laying bare his thorn in the flesh, and Christ offers him his grace, with the comfort that it is enough.

I spoke about C.S. Lewis earlier. I'm currently reading "A Grief Observed," which is by far the most honest and cutting book I have ever read. In it, Lewis journals about the loss of his wife, to whom he was married for only a few years. Wearing on his at this time were the trauma of caring for his wife for the last week of her life, the physical pain of osteoporosis, and the struggles to remember the one true love of his life as she was without constructing a false memory of her. He questions God, and suddenly feels the finality of death, despite being surrounded by Christian friends who assure him that "Death is not the end" or "There is no death": "There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are ireevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn't matter. I look up at the night sky. Is anything more certain than that in all those vast times and spaces, if I were allowed to search them, I should nowhere find her face, her voice, her touch? She died. She is dead. Is the word so difficult to learn?"

And yet it is in these moments, in the pain of death and grief and sorrow and sin and conviction, that the Lord rests. That His strength is made perfect. Lewis likewise questions why God seems to offer so freely his graces when times are good, but why they seem to be withdrawn in times of worst distress. Christ is teaching us in these times to stand on our own two legs, yet is still there to catch us if we should fall. He is making us into the kinds of creatures He wishes us to be. That is why we can rejoice in times of trouble--it is because the knowledge, the true knowledge that Christ has come and died and is back alive and offers life to us if only we will persevere and trust Him, overrides our feelings. This doesn't mean hiding our sadness and sturggles; it means we should share them, that the body may grow to a full knowledge and confidence in the strength of Christ.

Jesus is so worthy of our trust, so worthy of our affection. He is worthy because He paid the price to buy us from the penalty of our sin. As though that were not enough, He offers us the new life of His resurrection, and the assurance of help the walk the narrow road toward His kingdom.