Every time I read from Second Corinthians about St Paul’s manifold sufferings and his “thorn in the flesh,” along with Jesus’ answer that divine grace is sufficient for the tormented apostle, I think I have to write more about it. Not that I have so much to say; I just have to keep wrestling out loud with this alternately consoling and maddening divine word.
Maybe we should get the maddening part out of the way first. Sometimes when the Lord says to me that his grace is sufficient, I’m tempted to retort: “No it’s not!” (But I try to restrain myself, since I tend to suffer from “foot in mouth” disease.) At least it doesn’t often seem like it is sufficient. I would like to manifestly experience it to be sufficient, but grace often works in hidden ways, or so subtly that someone like me remains oblivious to the divine touch.
But there it is. There’s the word. “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” The very fact that He said it means it is true, so there shouldn’t be extended arguments on that point. Perhaps we ought to ask the Lord to define “sufficient” (some of his definitions are different than ours; take “soon,” for example). Sufficient may mean for me “luxuriously abundant, providing total comfort, security and perfect well-being and happiness in all possible ways.” But it may mean for Him something like “just enough to keep you out of Hell and to prod you to greater efforts toward virtue, fidelity, endurance, and holiness.” But hey, who am I to argue with Him? I’ve already written a few posts on the futility of Job’s argument, and I’m getting accustomed to the dust and ashes.
I don’t know what St Paul’s “thorn” was, but sometimes I feel like I’m wearing an entire rosebush (sans roses). It’s clear, however, that Paul’s sufferings were much greater than mine. Most of his sufferings (floggings, beatings, shipwreck, etc) he didn’t complain about at all, but from this thorn he thrice begged to be delivered. I beg to be delivered from the effects of a bad night’s sleep or indigestion! Yet the amazing thing about Paul is that as soon as Jesus told him that grace was sufficient, he stopped begging and then exclaimed, “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong.”
A couple of things can be learned here. Our sufferings ought first be put in perspective. Most of us are not frequently flogged with whips or beaten with rods, and we do not experience the severe and relentless hardships of someone like St Paul. So we ought to restrain ourselves from freaking out over something that God is quite willing to help us get through. We also ought to give the word of God the same authority that Paul did (though I think an actual apparition might help here). He was begging the Lord for deliverance; then the Lord said “My grace is enough”; then Paul said, “For the sake of Christ I am content.” Boy, I wish I could do that!
We also need to realize that the Lord is not going to be cajoled or coerced into delivering us from whatever thorn is lodged in us just because we are constantly whining about it. He knows what He’s about, He knows his perfect will for us, and He knows what is sufficient for carrying out that will. So, if what we’re asking for isn’t already his will, we can beg 3 or 300 or 3000 or 3,000,000 times, but the answer will be the same: His grace is enough.
But rather than stomp off disappointed, we ought to reflect on that a bit. His grace is sufficient; that means I can overcome whatever I’m struggling or suffering with. And thus I can bear fruit and please God and advance toward Heaven in the process. We should reflect on the “power in weakness” thing, too. Now I’m pretty sure that the sort of “weakness” that perfects divine power isn’t that about which we might say we’ve got a certain weakness for chocolate or perhaps for something much more dangerous. Divine power isn’t perfected in some severe inclination toward sin, though this power is able to heal us from it. I think St Paul’s weakness was the radical vulnerability that is part and parcel of the human condition. We are susceptible to all sorts things from which we can’t defend ourselves: sickness, pain, grief, insults and persecutions, fatigue, discouragement, etc. We’re like flotsam or jetsam easily tossed about on the rough and merciless waves of life. But in this—or rather in our total reliance on God in the midst of it all—the Lord’s strength is made available. It is sufficient not only to preserve us from being dashed upon the rocks, but also to give us peace, confidence, and courage. We go forth unarmed but protected, exhausted yet borne up, seemingly clueless yet guided by hidden wisdom, broken yet mended, suffering yet hopeful, assailed yet trusting, feeling barren yet bearing fruit, unable to walk yet able to carry others, oppressed by the dark powers but emerging victorious into the Light of Christ.
I think sufficient grace is something like that. Not the easy way but the fruitful way, not a free ride but ultimately rewarding, not “cheap grace” but certain triumph through bearing the Cross. I may still struggle with all that—and those concrete manifestations of the intolerable thorn—but the Lord will be there with me. And He will be sufficient.
