Elation amid the Thorns

“For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  (2 Corinthians 12: 10)

Being finite, we’re a mixed bag.  Some weeds always steal into the garden.  We sing with Leonard Cohen about cracks in things that let the light in.  But cracked pots are defective.  It is strange to praise weakness.

Ezekiel received a vision as an exile in Babylon.  Out of fire emerged winged creatures with human and animal faces.  Above was the gleaming throne of the Almighty.  Glory knocked Ezekiel to the ground, but not for long.  As the vision faded, God’s spirit set Ezekiel back on his feet to receive his call.  The Israelites had rebelled.  In exile they abandoned their God.  Why listen to God’s messenger?  Wasn’t this misery enough?  Why would they ever sing again?  God gave Ezekiel words to penetrate their hard hearts.  Soon the destruction of Jerusalem would break open their hearts and kindle again hope for God’s mercy.

Early into his public life Jesus was tested.  He faced stormy seas, resentful scribes, unclean spirits, and those physically wounded.  His spirit was strong as he preached and healed throughout the land.  Then he came home.  Only within the presence of his neighbors and family did God’s power depart.  Those sure that they knew him mocked the so-called chosen one.  Their doubts like lead squashed his vibrant spirit.

Prophets steer us to higher ground.  Without a jab or two, complacency holds us back.  Paul sucks in the joy of God’s momentous revelations.  But this exuberance is punctured by thorns.  Paul begs God for relief: “Take away this curse.”  God refuses.  Some thorns are embedded in the self.  They are not alien forces.  They are me.  God does not seek the pristine me but the mottled me.

One hand opens to the reality of God’s love for me.  The other stretches out for more.  We exist in this tension: dwelling in the hands of God we yearn for all weakness to be gone.  But thorns turn us back to the God for whom we are already enough. 

The recovering alcoholic thanks God for the affliction that dragged her into the depths.  From deep in the pit, she cries for help.  Help comes.  We are not alone.