simple answers. 2 Cor 12.10

When I am weak, then I am strong

the Church of the Holy Spirit (Heiliggeistkirche), seen from the Heidelberg Castle, Germany.

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2 Cor 12.10

Whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

It is a dishonor to Paul by saying we know what he means without getting to the point where Paul was able to say it. It was a lesson learned through years of pain. It was a lesson earned through years of pain. To say we know what he means without having to earn it cheapens it. It cheapens it because we are telling Paul if he had been smart enough to know it, as we do, he wouldn't have had to go through all that pain.

Years ago I was reading Paul's comment "I have learned the secret of being content" and wondered: then why doesn't he tell us? He learns the secret and then keeps it a secret! Now, years later, the answer is this: it is not a lesson that is learned by reading. The learning is in the doing. Even if Paul tells the secret, it is of no use, because knowing the answer is of no value unless you are already on the way to learning it. Paul didn't say what the secret was because anyone who was far enough along the path would learn it, and anyone who was not on the path didn't need to know it. It was not idle chatter. It was not a topic in a Dictionary of Theology. It was serious stuff, learned in desperation.

Nevertheless, my guess is this. You can take it or leave it. I won't defend it because it's possible it's wrong.

After 13 years in Romania things were going very badly. I tried to get back to the States every 18 months to see my kids and friends. On that trip I was talking with a good friend at morning coffee and told him, "Okay, I hate my life. Now what?" It was a reference to Jesus' statement, "unless you hate your own life you cannot be my disciple." My friend said, "I don't think that's what it means," and I agreed, but I also said that when Paul says he is torn between staying here or leaving to be with the Lord he was saying he no longer cared whether he lived or died, and would have preferred to die because life was just too miserable. My friend asked if I was serious about that and I said yes, I was: I thought Paul would have rather died than continue down the Path God had given him.

And I still hold to that. The "secret" of being content is getting to the point where nothing matters. Comfort has no attraction because tomorrow he will be back in it. Hardship has no meaning because things will only get harder. The answer is death, but he cannot do that because he has been given a course that must be finished. Each day is one step closer to death. That is its only meaning: get through this one and you're that much closer to being done.

To the person at the starting point, that is a good reason not to start. To a person at the same point, or preferring death to waking up tomorrow, there is some comfort of knowing you're not the only one, but it is easily misused by the person who is at that point for a different reason. We so easily appropriate for ourselves truths that are not true for us. Someone who has messed up their life so badly they cannot stand to live another day has not learned this truth and cannot use it as an excuse or permission for anything. First, because Paul said he would stay on the path no matter what, and second, because his path was God's path, not his own.

Nevertheless, the secret is getting to the point in the work of God where hardship and comfort have no meaning. That is why Paul can say he cares for neither of them. He died daily. Truly, he did. He died daily. It was a miserable existence.

He was 99.9% of the way into death. On the day that God allowed him to go the final 0.1% would be nothing but gratitude that God had allowed him to step off the course. But the only last step he allowed himself was the step past the finish line. Turning off the course or stopping the race was not an option. He would finish, but he was so exhausted, so beaten down, so hurt that nothing mattered any longer. The silly things of life like comfort or difficulty held no power over him. There was no carrot; there was no stick. He was simply finishing the course.

Paul could say "when I am weak, then I am strong" because he was astonished he actually made it through the day. Each day was round 15 of the boxing match where both fighters are beyond pain and beyond exhaustion. Three minutes is an eternity when you can barely lift your arms. The bell finally rings and the fighter slumps down on the stool, only to be told that was not round 15; it was round 14. Round 15 must still be fought.

Paul had no idea how he fought round 15 every day and still had the strength to raise his arms for the next round. But he did, and in that exhaustion he looked back to the round before and thought to himself, "my, how easy that was compared to this one". And so when the bell sounded for the next round he knew, intellectually, that he would say the same thing after this one was over: that just making it through, weakly, was proof that he was in unexplored territory and actually surviving it, somehow.

The strength is learning that just getting up the next day is a proof of strength. He is beaten down, but not beaten yet. He looks like he could not go another 10 seconds, much less another round, but he will do it, and in doing it proves the strength. The fighter who finishes, no matter how bloodied or exhausted, is the stronger one. The fighter who flexes his muscles at the introduction is nothing. He looks strong, but we will see what he looks like at the end. The inability to go another second, but going another round, is the proof of strength.

We dishonor Paul when we so casually appropriate this for our silly mantras. We haven't even stepped into the ring and yet we confidently declare we know. No, we don't. Until you live 30 or 40 years like Paul did, you don't know.