When Weakness Becomes Your Greatest Strength
We all carry memories that define us. Some are triumphs we're proud to recall, while others are moments we'd rather forget. These experiences shape who we become, teaching us lessons and forming instincts that guide our future decisions. But here's the challenging truth: sometimes the lessons we learn from our experiences are the wrong ones.
Consider this parable: Two brothers grew up in a home with a violent, alcoholic father. One became a drinker and abuser himself, while the other never touched alcohol and became a model parent. When asked how they became who they were, both gave the identical answer: "Given who my father was, how could I not?" Same upbringing, completely different outcomes.
This raises a profound question: What if, regardless of what you've been through or are currently facing, you could emerge better for it? What if God could take what was meant for evil and use it for good?
The Universal Struggle with "Not Enough"
There's a feeling that haunts most of us, often from our earliest memories. It's that moment on the playground when you weren't picked for the team. That first bad grade. That realization that your talent or performance didn't quite measure up to someone else's.
For adults, this feeling doesn't disappear—it just evolves. It hits when you're looking to yourself for answers as a parent, thinking, "I was hoping someone would tell me what to do." It surfaces when you're leading a team, feeling like an imposter who's making it up as you go. It even strikes on your best days, when you make the mistake of comparing your victory to someone else's seemingly perfect life online.
Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt describes what he calls "the great rewiring of childhood" in his book "The Anxious Generation." Beginning with Gen Z, children started experiencing phone-based childhoods, where huge amounts of interaction shifted from physical community to digital community. Life online moved from connecting with friends to curating and maintaining a personal brand, leading to devastating effects on mental health—rising anxiety, depression, body image issues, and fear.
While this cultural shift might be relatively new, the struggle it illuminates is timeless: It's never enough. The effort, the achievement, the talent, the attention—whatever "it" is for you, there's always a gap between who we are and who we want to be.
Even Jesus Faced Questions About His Adequacy
When Philip told Nathaniel about meeting Jesus, Nathaniel's response was telling: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Even the Messiah wasn't immune to people questioning whether he was enough based on where he came from.
When Jesus taught in his hometown synagogue, people were amazed by his wisdom and miracles, but their amazement quickly turned to skepticism: "Isn't this the carpenter? Isn't this Mary's son?" They took offense at him because they couldn't reconcile his power with his ordinary background.
If even Jesus dealt with this, should it surprise us that we wrestle with our own inadequacies?
Paul's Unexpected Defense
The Apostle Paul seems like someone who had it all together. He had an Ivy League-equivalent education under the great teacher Gamaliel. He was a Roman citizen with automatic respect and privileges. He was personally called into ministry by Jesus himself and went on to write about a quarter of the New Testament.
Yet in his second letter to the Corinthians, we find Paul doing something unexpected: defending his credentials. Critics had infiltrated the church he planted, undermining his authority by saying, "Paul's letters are forceful, but in person he's weak, and his speeches are worthless."
Paul was dealing with people comparing him to more polished speakers, questioning his qualifications, and attacking his credibility. Historical descriptions suggest Paul was small, stocky, bald, bow-legged, with a unibrow—not exactly an impressive figure. He even once preached so long that a young man fell asleep, fell out a window, and everyone thought he was dead.
Paul's response to his critics is remarkable. He begins defending himself but does so in the strangest way. Instead of listing his impressive accomplishments, he catalogs his sufferings:
"Five different times the Jewish leaders gave me thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked. Once I spent a whole night and a day adrift at sea."
These aren't typical credentials for credibility. He's essentially saying, "You want proof? People hate me everywhere I go!"
The Power Made Perfect in Weakness
Then Paul shares something that changes everything. He describes a "thorn in the flesh" that he begged God repeatedly to remove. God's response? "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
This revelation transformed Paul's entire perspective. He writes: "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."
Paul understood something profound: Every time his strength ran out, God's strength was put on display. His struggles weren't proof that God had abandoned him—they were proof that God was working in him.
Your Inadequacy Doesn't Disqualify You
Perhaps because Paul couldn't preach like the more eloquent Apollos, he had no choice but to write like Paul. His "limitation" forced him to communicate differently. If he had only preached instead of writing, we might not have his letters today. Because of his weaknesses, his impact didn't just affect the church then—it still affects us now.
This is the paradigm shift we need: God doesn't just use you in spite of your inadequacies. Your inadequacies are actually a gift given by God to help you fulfill your purpose.
Maybe because you didn't have a dad, God is going to use you to be the dad you wish you could have had. Because you've failed, God is going to use your failure to tell others that their story isn't over either. Your struggles can become your strength.
Embracing the Gap
There will always be a gap between who we are and who we want to be. You'll always see it, and chances are, so will everyone else. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Your inadequacy doesn't disqualify you from God's plan. In fact, the very thing that seems like proof of your weakness can become the same thing you point to as proof of God's strength. Instead of being limited by it, you can become better for it.
The situation you're in right now might not be a setback but rather a setup for God's greater purpose in you. It's often only in our struggles that we become fully aware of God's strength.
What God wants to do in you is too important to let inadequacy sour what He's planning. What God has for you is too important to leave your issues unconfronted. Face your struggles and find God's strength waiting there, ready to be made perfect in your weakness.
Consider this parable: Two brothers grew up in a home with a violent, alcoholic father. One became a drinker and abuser himself, while the other never touched alcohol and became a model parent. When asked how they became who they were, both gave the identical answer: "Given who my father was, how could I not?" Same upbringing, completely different outcomes.
This raises a profound question: What if, regardless of what you've been through or are currently facing, you could emerge better for it? What if God could take what was meant for evil and use it for good?
The Universal Struggle with "Not Enough"
There's a feeling that haunts most of us, often from our earliest memories. It's that moment on the playground when you weren't picked for the team. That first bad grade. That realization that your talent or performance didn't quite measure up to someone else's.
For adults, this feeling doesn't disappear—it just evolves. It hits when you're looking to yourself for answers as a parent, thinking, "I was hoping someone would tell me what to do." It surfaces when you're leading a team, feeling like an imposter who's making it up as you go. It even strikes on your best days, when you make the mistake of comparing your victory to someone else's seemingly perfect life online.
Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt describes what he calls "the great rewiring of childhood" in his book "The Anxious Generation." Beginning with Gen Z, children started experiencing phone-based childhoods, where huge amounts of interaction shifted from physical community to digital community. Life online moved from connecting with friends to curating and maintaining a personal brand, leading to devastating effects on mental health—rising anxiety, depression, body image issues, and fear.
While this cultural shift might be relatively new, the struggle it illuminates is timeless: It's never enough. The effort, the achievement, the talent, the attention—whatever "it" is for you, there's always a gap between who we are and who we want to be.
Even Jesus Faced Questions About His Adequacy
When Philip told Nathaniel about meeting Jesus, Nathaniel's response was telling: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Even the Messiah wasn't immune to people questioning whether he was enough based on where he came from.
When Jesus taught in his hometown synagogue, people were amazed by his wisdom and miracles, but their amazement quickly turned to skepticism: "Isn't this the carpenter? Isn't this Mary's son?" They took offense at him because they couldn't reconcile his power with his ordinary background.
If even Jesus dealt with this, should it surprise us that we wrestle with our own inadequacies?
Paul's Unexpected Defense
The Apostle Paul seems like someone who had it all together. He had an Ivy League-equivalent education under the great teacher Gamaliel. He was a Roman citizen with automatic respect and privileges. He was personally called into ministry by Jesus himself and went on to write about a quarter of the New Testament.
Yet in his second letter to the Corinthians, we find Paul doing something unexpected: defending his credentials. Critics had infiltrated the church he planted, undermining his authority by saying, "Paul's letters are forceful, but in person he's weak, and his speeches are worthless."
Paul was dealing with people comparing him to more polished speakers, questioning his qualifications, and attacking his credibility. Historical descriptions suggest Paul was small, stocky, bald, bow-legged, with a unibrow—not exactly an impressive figure. He even once preached so long that a young man fell asleep, fell out a window, and everyone thought he was dead.
Paul's response to his critics is remarkable. He begins defending himself but does so in the strangest way. Instead of listing his impressive accomplishments, he catalogs his sufferings:
"Five different times the Jewish leaders gave me thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked. Once I spent a whole night and a day adrift at sea."
These aren't typical credentials for credibility. He's essentially saying, "You want proof? People hate me everywhere I go!"
The Power Made Perfect in Weakness
Then Paul shares something that changes everything. He describes a "thorn in the flesh" that he begged God repeatedly to remove. God's response? "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
This revelation transformed Paul's entire perspective. He writes: "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."
Paul understood something profound: Every time his strength ran out, God's strength was put on display. His struggles weren't proof that God had abandoned him—they were proof that God was working in him.
Your Inadequacy Doesn't Disqualify You
Perhaps because Paul couldn't preach like the more eloquent Apollos, he had no choice but to write like Paul. His "limitation" forced him to communicate differently. If he had only preached instead of writing, we might not have his letters today. Because of his weaknesses, his impact didn't just affect the church then—it still affects us now.
This is the paradigm shift we need: God doesn't just use you in spite of your inadequacies. Your inadequacies are actually a gift given by God to help you fulfill your purpose.
Maybe because you didn't have a dad, God is going to use you to be the dad you wish you could have had. Because you've failed, God is going to use your failure to tell others that their story isn't over either. Your struggles can become your strength.
Embracing the Gap
There will always be a gap between who we are and who we want to be. You'll always see it, and chances are, so will everyone else. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Your inadequacy doesn't disqualify you from God's plan. In fact, the very thing that seems like proof of your weakness can become the same thing you point to as proof of God's strength. Instead of being limited by it, you can become better for it.
The situation you're in right now might not be a setback but rather a setup for God's greater purpose in you. It's often only in our struggles that we become fully aware of God's strength.
What God wants to do in you is too important to let inadequacy sour what He's planning. What God has for you is too important to leave your issues unconfronted. Face your struggles and find God's strength waiting there, ready to be made perfect in your weakness.
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