When I Am Weak
Why the Gospel Begins Where Our Strength Ends
When I Am Weak
Why the Gospel Begins Where Our Strength Ends
Our world rewards strength.
Polished résumés.
Unshakable confidence.
Bulletproof theology.
Charismatic leaders who always seem to have the answer and never show a crack.
Even in the church, we’ve absorbed this script:
Faith is supposed to make you stronger.
Braver. Bolder. Victorious.
But what if the gospel has something very different to say?
The Verse I Used to Skip
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9–10)
I used to read that and think Paul was just being poetic. Humble, maybe. A little dramatic.
But after everything I’ve lived through, loss, illness, ministry burnout, I don’t think Paul is being poetic at all.
I think he’s being honest.
The Leadership We Reward vs. The Leadership Jesus Shows
We love stories of leaders who rise above it all. The ones who “push through,” “cast vision,” and never let ‘em see you sweat.
But that’s not how Paul leads. Not in 2 Corinthians.
In this letter, Paul is defending his ministry:
Not with credentials, but with scars.
Not with charisma, but with tears.
Not with a TED Talk, but with a thorn in his side.
He’s writing to people tempted by the “super-apostles”, slick communicators who sound stronger, smarter, more impressive.
Paul’s message?
Let them be impressive.
I’ll be weak if it means more of Jesus.
This flips everything upside down.
I Was Good at Winning
Before I ever stepped into ministry, I lived in a world where strength really was the point.
I have a business degree. I worked in the corporate world. I won awards for numerical success—Best Sales, General Manager of the Year, Trainer of the Year. I knew how to grow things. Hit the targets. Lead the team. Crush the goals.
And in the middle of all that success, something unexpected happened: I had what I can only describe as a Damascus road moment. Jesus interrupted my life. I began to follow Him. Slowly, everything began to change.
Years later, I entered full-time vocational ministry.
But when I got there, I found something strangely familiar.
I started reading all the right books:
The Purpose Driven Church (Rick Warren),
Seven Practices of Effective Ministry (Andy Stanley),
Simple Church (Thom Rainer),
Church Unique (Will Mancini), and others.
They all spoke the same language I already knew.
Leadership strategies.
Business metaphors.
Organizational charts.
Funnels.
Pipelines.
Instead of products, we had programs.
Instead of sales, we tracked salvations.
Instead of revenue, we tracked giving.
Instead of growth charts, we counted baptisms and buildings.
Success just meant applying the right technique,
Play the right song,
Preach the right sermon,
Tell the emotional story at just the right moment.
And to be honest, it worked.
As I wrote in:
I followed the formula and experienced success.
Until it all came crashing down.
When Strength Failed Me
Cancer stopped everything.
My body weakened.
My platform cracked.
And my church, my community, didn’t know what to do with my pain.
That’s when I realized:
We had built our leadership culture on something unstable.
It looked strong.
But it couldn’t hold real life.
It couldn’t carry sorrow, sickness, or struggle.
And I confess that I led the building of this foundation.
And to that, I share my deepest apologies,
To those who have been hurt by the Church Machine.
Our churches were built for momentum.
But not for mourning.
The Way of Jesus
And yet… Jesus is not that kind of leader.
He doesn’t climb the ladder - He stoops to wash feet.
He doesn’t demand applause - He shares His scars.
He doesn’t ride in on a warhorse - He enters on a donkey.
He doesn’t avoid suffering - He walks right into it.
And Paul, the apostle who followed Jesus most closely,
Doesn’t boast about his success,
He boasts about his weakness.
His thorn.
His failures.
His tears.
As a pastor, I’m still learning this.
I’m learning that the culture of weakness isn’t something to be avoided in the church. It’s what the church is supposed to be.
A place where strength isn’t the standard - love is.
A place where leadership looks like care,
Where confession is normal,
And where wounds aren’t hidden, they’re held.
But oh, how we’ve drifted.
What Does a Culture of Weakness Look Like?
Let’s see…
It looks like worship that makes room for lament.
It looks like small groups where confession isn’t shocking.
It looks like leadership that isn’t afraid to say, “I don’t know.”
It looks like sermons shaped more by scars than strategies.
It looks like people being present rather than polished.
It looks like churches where prayer lists are full of grief and hope—side by side.
It looks like communion tables that welcome the weary, not just the worthy.
It looks like shepherds who walk with the wounded, not over them.
This is not about glorifying dysfunction.
It’s about telling the truth.
It’s about naming our pain, carrying one another’s burdens,
And discovering that grace doesn’t wait for us to get it all together.
The Real Jesus Still Walks the Road
I know some of you have walked away from church because your weakness wasn’t welcome there.
You were told to sing louder when your heart was breaking.
To quote Scripture when you were drowning in depression.
To pray harder when what you really needed was someone to sit next to you and say, “Me too.”
I’m sorry.
But I want you to hear this:
Jesus never turned away from weakness.
He entered it.
He carried it.
And He still does.
A Final Word
You don’t have to be strong all the time.
You don’t have to have it all together.
You don’t need to wear the mask anymore.
If you’re exhausted from pretending,
If you’re aching to be real,
Jesus is already with you.
Not at the end of the performance,
But right in the middle of your pain.
When I am weak, then I am strong.
That’s not a contradiction.
That’s the way of Christ.
Love this. I’m new to the platform and have only read two posts… both yours! I like your honesty and ‘realness’; I appreciate your careful vulnerability and your willingness to push the envelope of ‘authentic’ in the community of faith.
So pertinent to today’s way of “churching” - but I love most that this tells a story of a true encounter with Jesus - one that didn’t stop there. You have written so many poignant poems that speak from & to a heart that’s “been there” & for that, I am grateful. I was a “Christian” for a very long time before I understood the difference between that and being an everyday child of God, created in his image, learning to love & how to live as his beloved. It’s literally a whole new way of living.