Past Sermon

Lesson:  2 Corinthians 12:2-10

When the bomb went off on a road near Baghdad, Hilbert Caesar thought his life was over.  What he discovered was … it was just beginning.

Army staff sergeant Caesar was in charge of a long-range 155mm howitzer — a self-propelled gun that resembles a tank.  He was out on patrol in Iraq when a roadside bomb exploded.  When the smoke cleared, Caesar looked down and saw that his right leg was severed in three places, flipped backward, just dangling by the skin.  He tried to give his machine gun to a fellow soldier, but discovered it was bent.  Then he yelled for the howitzer hatches to be closed, and thought to himself, “Oh man.  This is it.  My life is over.”

But he didn’t die.  The insurgents responsible for the attack disappeared, and Caesar was transported to safety.  Later, at Walter Reed Hospital, his missing limb was replaced with an artificial leg of plastic and steel.

Still, he felt despair about his future.  He was in pain, and was worried that he’d never be able to run again, or be attractive to women.  He received word that eight men from his platoon had been killed by a car bomb in Baghdad, including one of his role models.  The news was devastating.

But little by little, he began to shift focus.  Caesar met other injured soldiers and heard them talk about their recoveries.  He began to look for the best, and realized that he was fortunate to make it back from battle with just one missing limb.  “I’m grateful for that,” he told The Washington Post last fall (November 26, 2005).  “I’m thankful for just being here.”

Caesar now completes marathons in racing wheelchairs, and has found a job with the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.  He sees the loss of his leg as a minor setback, and believes that he has come out of the war with more wisdom, compassion and appreciation for life.

A number of psychiatrists and psychologists are beginning to see that not all soldiers return from war with shattered spirits.  A number are emerging from the experience feeling enhanced.  Now this is not to say that war is heaven — rather than hell.  It’s not desirable or healthy or good — just war arguments aside.  But it can lead to personal growth.

The same thing happened to the apostle Paul after he was stabbed with a “thorn…in the flesh.” (2 Corinthians 12:7)  We don’t know exactly what this thorn was, although biblical scholars have suggested that it could have been anything from epilepsy to stuttering, depression to eye problems.  What’s important is that Paul considered this affliction to be a painful trap or torture designed to take him out of the spiritual battle plan.

Back in the first century, sharpened wooden stakes were often placed in pits, with the hope that enemy soldiers would fall on them and be impaled.  Sharpened stakes were the roadside bombs of the ancient world, and they were described in Greek by the word skolops — the exact same word that Paul uses for his thorn in the flesh.

Paul makes it clear that whatever the “thorn” was, it had not been placed in him by God.  It has originated as “a messenger of Satan,” he says — “to torment me, to keep me from being too elated.” (v. 7)  Three times he pleaded with the Lord to remove the skolops, just as veterans of war plead that their pain will end, and their bodies will be restored.  But for Paul it was not removed.  What changed was that he came to recognize the presence and the strength of God within that very situation.  The promise he had from Christ was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” (v. 9)  God’s grace is amazing; it’s boundless; it’s bountiful.  God’s grace is sufficient, in illness, in grief, in struggle, in adversity, in confusion, in crisis, in trauma, in any time, in any situation.

Here’s the deal:  Sometimes deliverance and victory come by removal of the source of pain.  That’s not how it worked in Paul’s case.  His suffering hurt.  If someone like the apostle Paul suffered so much that he repeatedly asked God to give him a break, we can be sure it was serious.  The lesson he learned, however, is that often God will give us deliverance and victory in the midst of the pain!

Thirty-three days before my mother died, she was rushed to the hospital by ambulance because she had stopped breathing and her heart had stopped beating.  Unfortunately, someone messed up, and her own long-standing “Do Not Resuscitate” order was not transported with her, so she was resuscitated, against her wishes, and those her children had agreed to.

Many times in the month that followed, I prayed.  Not that she would return to normal.  Even as a non-medical professional, I knew that was not possible.  Rather, my prayers were that she would not suffer, and that God would give her family the strength we needed to deal with whatever laid ahead.

And my prayers were answered.  I felt the strength that comes from knowing you are being included in others’ prayers, their concern, their care.  I felt clothed in a blanket of God’s “sufficient grace” to carry me, and those I loved, through a month of days filled with stress and fatigue and wondering when the end would finally and mercifully come.

This is what any of us might come to experience — even if you had not thought to express it that way.  God’s grace is sufficient.  God’s gift of himself, his gift of Jesus, is enough — enough to overcome any obstacle.

This is what Paul learns in his time of growth as he comes to accept that the suffering caused by his “thorn” would not change:  God’s grace is sufficient.  It’s something that we can learn as well, as we discover the power of God’s grace within our own community of faith, and in our increasing reliance on the Lord.  We can offer encouragement and support as we gather in the church to talk honestly about our struggles, and to share insights we’ve gained from our successes and our failures.  Whether the challenge is raising teenagers, overcoming addictions, managing money, or adjusting to the loss of a loved one, there is a tremendous benefit from moving from isolation to community.

In fact, we may even follow Paul in actually boasting of our weaknesses, because when we do this the power of Christ will dwell in us.  “I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ,” says Paul to the Corinthians; “for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (v. 10)

Reliance on God moves us from weakness to strength, from agony to ecstasy, from cross to resurrection.