2 Corinthians 12:5-10
That last sentence Paul speaks in this passage—“For when I am weak, then I am strong”—sounds like a contradiction, doesn’t it? What do we call that in English? An oxymoron? I’ve heard that word mostly here in America. But that’s exactly what it is: “When I am weak, then I am strong.”
That’s the message of Christ. Everything Christ preached seems to go against the way the world works. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who mourn. What? How is mourning a blessing? But that’s the way of the Kingdom of God—upside-down thinking compared to the world we live in.
When we are weak, Paul says, we actually become strong. Why? Because God's grace is sufficient. His power is made perfect in our weakness.
We all go through troubles in our lives. Paul speaks of a thorn in his flesh. He doesn’t say exactly what it was—some believe it was a physical condition, perhaps his eyesight. Others say it was emotional or spiritual. Whatever it was, Paul felt it constantly. He pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it. And God's answer wasn’t yes or no.
God said: “My grace is sufficient for you.”
Now, I don’t know about you, but I like a clear answer when I pray. Yes or no. That way, I can move on. But sometimes God doesn’t give us a simple yes or no. He says something deeper: “My grace is sufficient.”
I remember when we were taking care of our grandson. He was very young, maybe two years old, and he fell while playing and scraped his knee. He started crying. I picked him up and put him on my shoulders. He stopped crying. Then he got down, looked at the wound, and started crying again. So I picked him up again, and he stopped crying again. This went on a few times.
Finally, I told him, “Stop looking at your wound!”
Sometimes, we’re just like that. God is already holding us. He’s carrying us through, but we keep looking at our pain. And then we start crying again. We forget we’re being comforted by our Heavenly Father. That is what grace looks like.
God’s grace is not the removal of the wound; it is the comfort and power that comes in spite of the wound.
This morning, my wife and I read a devotion together that said, “God has written our names in the palm of His hands.” I looked at my hands and noticed the lines—the fingerprints, the swirls. Why do we have those? Is it just biology, or could it be divine design?
I like to believe it’s a coded message from God. Maybe His hand is inscribed with the names of His people. That’s what Scripture says. And if that’s true, I believe my name is there. Your name is there. He holds us—not just figuratively, but personally. His hands are big enough, strong enough, eternal enough to carry us.
So, no matter what kind of thorn you’re carrying—physical, emotional, invisible, or obvious—God’s promise remains: “My grace is sufficient for you.”
That verse in Psalms says, “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Even when we feel like we’ve fallen, we’re still in His arms.
Grace doesn’t always look like change. It’s not always a healing or a breakthrough or a sudden turn. Sometimes, grace looks like strength to endure what hasn’t changed yet. The pain may still be there. The loss may still hurt. The rejection may still sting. But in the middle of it, God whispers: “My child, I’m with you.”
That’s what made Paul and Silas sing in prison. Remember that? They were beaten, chained, and locked away. But in the midnight hour, they sang praises to God. And God showed up. Chains broke. Doors opened. They were set free.
That’s what sufficient grace looks like—freedom in the midst of bondage.
Joseph’s life comes to mind. He was sold by his brothers, thrown into a pit, falsely accused, and imprisoned. Yet through every valley, God was working. Joseph didn’t know it at the time, but grace was carrying him. And he became the prime minister of Egypt—through God’s grace.
Grace works best in our weakness. Our weakness is not a liability—it’s a doorway. God uses it. Sometimes, our strengths become barriers because we start trusting ourselves. But weakness clears the stage so God can act.
We don’t need to have it all together. We don’t need to pretend. When you feel powerless, say, “God, I can’t—but You can.” That’s enough.
Think of Beethoven—he lost his hearing. Yet he composed music so beautiful, we still listen to it today. A deaf man wrote music he could never hear himself—but we hear it, because grace was working through him.
Think of William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army. He went blind toward the end of his life. His son had to break the news: “Dad, the doctor said you’ll never see again.” William Booth didn’t panic. He said, “God gave me the ministry when I had sight. I’ll continue it without sight.” And he did.
Grace doesn’t run out. It’s not scarce. It’s abundant. Whatever you're facing—brokenness, anxiety, relationship struggles, financial pressures, or spiritual exhaustion—His grace is still enough.
Just yesterday, we heard some powerful testimonies from young people about stress and anxiety. Some of their stories left me speechless.
While setting up outside, the wind came suddenly and blew one of our large tent pieces across the field. Rain clouds gathered, and we started to panic. But I remembered something I once preached right here: “When it rains, the best thing to do… is let it rain.”
So we did. We sat down, ate our hot dogs and hamburgers, and learned something beautiful in the process.
Life brings storms. But the God who controls the weather holds us in His hands. That is sufficient grace.
And even when we feel broken beyond repair, God can make us new. The prophet Jeremiah was told to go to the potter’s house. He watched as a pot the potter was shaping fell apart in his hands. But the potter didn’t throw it away. He started again. That’s God. That’s grace.
Even if the world sees us as damaged clay, God sees a new creation in the making.
So whatever thorn you carry, whatever pain you bear, hear God’s voice today: “My grace is sufficient for you.”
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