Surrender

In 2 Corinthians chapter 12, Paul speaks of the thorn in
the flesh that he endured after asking God three times to
take it away.

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my
strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly
I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ
may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities,
in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for
Christ’s sake. For when I am weak I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9

Christian men are aware of our culture’s war on man’s masculinity,
but we must also be aware of the opposite extreme. Both secular and
spiritual men suffer many of the same vulnerabilities. We strive for
success. We respect power. We savor the victories we achieve. We enjoy acceptance and recognition. We have a nature that says we can do it on our own. Humility and humbleness do not come naturally to us.

It makes no sense to this world when Paul speaks of strength being
found in becoming weak, but scripture tells us God will resist the proud,
but gives grace to the humble. The simple fact is that the spiritual soldier will only have victory in battle by learning how to surrender. Not
surrendering to the enemy but to his ultimate commander-in-chief,
the Lord Jesus Christ.

I have found the strong spiritual soldier does not fit any mold. He is not
necessarily the man with the strongest physique, the most athletic, the best looks, or the most powerful job. In fact, very often he is the man ignored by the world, or even made fun of. He is the man who knows his relationship with his God and seeks to live by God’s will and not his own.

The same is true for women. It seems to me that this strength through weakness seems to come more naturally to women than men. We seem to struggle with the concept.

Perhaps the best illustration of strength through weakness that I
have ever seen occurred at a very unlikely place where I least expected it, not from a brother while I was in the army, where physical and mental toughness abounded, but at an elementary school dance recital.

The girls ranged from Pre-K to 5th grade, the first dance recital for
our five-year-old daughter, Emma, and the first for me, since Karen
and I had raised two boys. I was sitting up front with the rest of our
family and friends, anxiously awaiting the lights to go down and the
curtain to open, my video camera ready at a moment’s notice. You
might think an hour and a half of watching little girls performing ballet
and creative dance would be dull, but from the first little angels that
glided out onto the stage, we were all enchanted by their enthusiasm
and their innocence. They each seemed to have their own way of performing the same dance step and at times the choreography seemed
to dissolve right there on stage, only to reappear as the little ballerinas
continued.

To every daddy there, his little girl was the prettiest and the
most graceful in the show and I was no exception. Emma tiptoed out
in her flowing blue dress, with a sparkling bodice and spaghetti straps.
Her long blond hair was pulled back, still wavy from the curlers Mom
had put in that morning. She performed each step with confidence and
the biggest smile.

Cameras clicked and movie cameras rolled as each group performed.
It was truly a blessing for all the families there, but a second,
unexpected blessing came later in the show, when the 4th grade girls
came out. They were older and had more experience than the little
ones. Their number was more intricate with more difficult moves and
more complicated choreography. It was a larger group of about twenty
girls and they moved across the stage as one, all except one young girl.

I didn’t even catch it at first as the dance began, but I noticed someone now and then would be out of step here and there. After a whole evening of little girls being out of step I had grown used to it, but I finally realized this girl was different. Her right hand was not fully formed as neither was her right foot. Her movements, though correct, were not as balanced as others. How could they be?

I glanced at her parents, whose obvious pride was showing. I was amazed at the courage the girl showed. She could have simply given in to her handicap, and done what was easy. But she put herself out there. And that could not have happened without the support and the confidence of her parents.

They had strength. They did not surrender.

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