God’s Sheltering Love

Robert E. Hall
Tarrytown United Methodist Church

July 9, 2006

Text: II Corinthians 12:1-12

Out of mundane church squabbles, wisdom is preserved and passed along.

The church in Corinth was in an Austin-like city. Every conceivable religion and spirituality, a veritable marketplace of the gods. They, too, did not have to work at being weird. Paul had planted a church there, but now his popularity was fading.  Super-apostles, Paul calls them, are questioning whether he has the right stuff. “His letters are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech is contemptible.” (10:10) The super apostles are capable of signs and wonders, visions and revelations. Paul is accused of being vacillating, undependable, saying one thing and doing another, behaving one way here and another way there. So, Paul begins a lengthy defense of his credentials and the conclusion comes in the verses read today.

Even though Paul does not want to, he decides to tell of  his own religious experiences; he will meet his detractors on their own ground. So he tells about “a man” who has been caught up into the third heaven, even into Paradise. It is widely believed that Paul is speaking of himself, his own experience.

I have had persons tell me of visions and visitations from God. I have even experienced some unusual things myself. Perhaps you have, too. Moments when you felt so close to God that you were struck dumb. There are moments when, listening to beautiful music, I am as close to heaven as I can stand to be. I can still remember the night in 1963, driving in Dallas in my Dad’s ’63 Corvair Monza, when I first heard Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. I can be transported to a heaven-like state by listening to a partcilar musical setting of George Herbert’s Come My Way, My Truth, My Life.  Maybe you have not had any such experiences. When and if these epiphanies of divine presence come our way, we may feel that we have been singled out for divine favor. We may get to feeling that we are far above the ordinary Christian because of this. Instead of being humbled by God, we may find ourselves lifted up, or puffed up.

Paul reluctantly enters into this game of spiritual one-upmanship. It is as if he is saying, “Yes, I, too, have had these revelations and visions. But I will not brag about them. Because these experiences do not authenticate my ministry. To brag about them would be to see my worth according to worldly standards, as if being close to God was to be equated with ecstatic experiences.”

Some years ago, my father told me about an event in his local church wherein visiting lay  members came and gave personal testimonies about their conversion experiences. Dad said that one would get up and tell a story of how sinful he was, down to the particulars, and what a wonder it was that God saved him. Then, the next person would get up and seemingly try to top that story. “If you think you are a sinner saved by grace, wait til you hear my story!” Dad was turned off by the testimonies, he said, because it seemed that they had taken a sacred experience and used it to inflate their own egos.

Paul tells us that God gave him a “thorn in the flesh” so that he could not stay up there on such a high plane, above the ordinary believers. We do not know what the thorn was for Paul: a speech impediment, a chronic physical ailment, a bad temper? Paul is described by one source as being bow-legged, bald, short and stout, with a large nose, and one whose eyebrows met in the middle. (Not a candidate for his own TV show!) Speculation about the nature of his “thorn” has embellished many sermons on the subject. But the point is not what brought Paul down to a human level. The point is that Paul got reminded by it that his worth did not depend on his being a perfect specimen of humanity, or a perfectly virtuous follower of the Way. The fact was that God had used him, flawed as he was, to proclaim the gospel message of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles. The power was all God’s, not his.

Maybe you are aware of your “thorn in the flesh.” We live in a culture where so much emphasis is placed on beauty, polish, physical perfection, fluency, cleverness, high test scores, early excellence. And we may look in the mirror and see.....just our ordinary old self. We may spend a good deal of energy wishing, or praying, that we were not the person we are. Our moods, our anxieties, our appearances may seem like disqualifiers. 

Paul says that God told him something very important about his thorn:

      “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

      Or, in Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase:

      “My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your    weakness.” 

Some years ago, I heard Keith Miller, the author of Taste of New Wine. He is an Episcopal layman who left a lucrative career in the oil business to bring hope to lay Christians around the world. He was speaking at a conference on ministry with those with addictions. He followed a silver-tongued preacher and a wonderful soloist. Miller’s presentation was peppered with stops and starts, with hums and haws. But he held the attention of every person in the room. The attraction was in his message. We were not transfixed by his persona, but we were held up and blessed by the authenticity of his witness. God’s power came into its own in his weakness. He pointed beyond himself to Jesus.

Paul’s thorn was not removed. It was preserved as a reminder to him and others that he was only human, but he was yielded to God’s purpose for this life. Our thorn may not be removed either. But we will learn to live with it; and when we are prone to start bragging about our spiritual altitude, our flaws may serve the same purpose as they did for Paul. God does not wait for super disciples to get the work done; God wants us to bear witness, with our limited gifts, to the awesome power of God, which brings life out of death, wholeness out of brokenness, hope out of despair. It is only when we acknowledge our weaknesses that God can find room to work in our lives.

Paul goes ahead to speak of the hardships he has endured as an apostle: in addition to his thorn, he has endured “insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.” Earlier in the letter he tells of imprisonments, floggings, shipwrecks, stonings,, being beaten with rods, in danger from rivers, bandits, false brothers and sisters, sleepless nights, without food or clothing, and being anxious for all of the churches he has founded! (Chapter 11) Paul is saying, “Credentials as an apostle? You want credentials? Do not look to my spiritual experiences, great as they were: look to all I have suffered for the sake of the gospel.”

Paul knew that he followed a Lord and Savior who bore just such dangers himself, even to the cross. Paul’s credential was his endurance through all of opposition and dangers he suffered as a witness to the love of God.

We are influenced to believe that any such hardships are signs of failure, of not winning, of not being successful, of not being on top of everything. It is hard for us today to hear that discipleship will lead us into suffering and deprivation for the sake of Christ. We want to believe that the Way of Jesus will lead us to have wonderful, affirming religious experiences as well as success as defined by the prevailing culture.

But here is the paradox of the cross: to find life, you give up your life. The “joyful obedience” which we pray for on Lord’s Supper Sundays will come only if we take up our crosses daily and go where Jesus calls us. Life in abundance is one of self-giving love, patterned after Jesus.  Pray for my enemies? Worry about the poor? (I have worries enough of my own!) Become fully my self by giving freely of myself? Love my neighbor as myself? (But God, have you met my neighbor?) We may never go through suffering as Paul did. But the life we have in Christ means enduring hardships and risks for the sake of the Gospel.

Paul writes “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.” Paul chooses a Greek word that is found only here in the New Testament: episkanoun. Victor Furnish translates this word “God’s sheltering presence, taking up residence with me.” (2 Corinthians, Victor Paul Furnish) You see, Paul is not a hero. He is not brave. He is a flawed servant. But he met Christ---and he never got over it. He was captured by the love of God in Christ and in response he gave himself to the work of sharing this good news. It is only through God’s sheltering presence that he was able to continue his “long obedience in the same direction. (Eugene Peterson, in a book by the same title.)

Can you accept God’s acceptance of you, warts and all? Will you allow God’s sheltering presence to reside in you? Will you use your gifts to serve alongside Jesus?