As memories of Christmas have receded into the background, and the fresh start of a new year is well underway, many people have undoubtedly made (and broken) resolutions tied to the stewardship of their bodies. 

Getting a gym membership and working out five times a week. 

Starting that diet and dropping the weight gained over the holidays. 

Going outside for a walk every day, rain or shine. 

But I doubt anyone will make the resolution to become weaker over the next year. The whole point of resolutions, after all, is to banish weakness and increase strength—whether physical, mental, or spiritual. 

While we must faithfully steward our minds, bodies, hearts, and emotions, Scripture actually teaches that weakness isn’t such a bad thing. Of course, none of us need to make a resolution to become weak; weakness has a way of finding us all on our own, usually when we least expect it. Because our society thrives on the idol of autonomy—“I can do it all without any say so from anyone”—we’re taught to shun weakness and embrace strength. But that worldly, self-reliant type of strength will lead only to our downfall (Psalm 20:7–8). True strength to stand up against the worst that the world can sling at us begins with weakness:

For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:10)

However, this type of strength doesn’t match up with the world’s definition. True strength, forged in the fire of weakness, has some surprising yet non-negotiable traits. 

True Strength Develops Humility

Paul saw God do some amazing things in his life—but no doubt a couple experiences outshone them all. Ranking at the top of his list would probably be the day he saw Jesus on the road to Damascus. (See Acts 9.) The other experience was also a vision—a vision of heaven itself. However, this awesome and terrifying vision—a seminal event in Paul’s life—barely gets mentioned in any of his writings. In fact, when he does finally feel compelled to bring it up, he does so in the third person as if to distance himself from the experience of being transported to heaven and getting an insider’s look. (See 2 Cor. 12:1–6.) 

But why doesn’t Paul talk more about this experience? Surely, he could clear up a lot of our questions and misconceptions about heaven. The answer came in the form of something else about which we have more questions than answers: a thorn in the flesh. 

Therefore, so that I would not exalt myself, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to torment me so that I would not exalt myself. (2 Corinthians 12:7)

While Paul doesn’t give us any detail about what his thorn was (A physical malady? A frustrating person?), he does give us its purpose: to lead to humility.

I don’t know about you, but I hate feeling weak. I hate asking for help. I hate not being able to help myself. I hate being uncomfortable. In short, I’m proud. When God brings weakness into our lives, no matter the form, He gives us something we can’t handle on our own. In these moments, we must humble ourselves and admit that we’re not God.

 It’s easy enough to see how weakness brings about humility. But how is that strength? 

In God’s surprising and often upside-down economy, humility leads to exaltation (James 4:10). We need look no farther for an example than the Savior who humbled Himself by taking on the nature of humanity and leaving behind the glories and privileges of reigning in heaven. 

For this reason God highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
every knee will bow—
in heaven and on earth
and under the earth—
and every tongue will confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:9–11)

True Strength Develops Dependence

I suppose it’s not much of a jump to see how true strength develops not only humility but also dependence. One of the most humbling (and distasteful!) things about weakness is that it requires me to forgo my independence and ask for help, whether from my husband, friends, family, church, or God Himself. And yet, a heart dependent on God is a heart that recognizes that it cannot save itself. “Trust in the LORD,” the Proverbs say, “and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him” (Prov. 3:5–6 ESV).

A headstrong, me-first, “I do it myself” attitude will lead to certain ruin. The prophet Jeremiah puts it this way: 

This is what the LORD says: 

Cursed is the person who trusts in mankind.
He makes human flesh his strength,
and his heart turns from the LORD.
He will be like a juniper in the Arabah;
he cannot see when good comes
but dwells in the parched places
in the wilderness,
in a salt land where no one lives. (Jeremiah 17:5–6)

Want to be strong like a mighty tree with a consistent water source and deep roots? Don’t trust in flesh and blood—your own or anyone else’s—trust in the Lord Himself: 

The person who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence indeed is the LORD,
is blessed. 

He will be like a tree planted by water:
it sends its roots out toward a stream,
it doesn’t fear when heat comes,
and its foliage remains green.
It will not worry in a year of drought
or cease producing fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7–8)

True Strength Requires Sanctified Affections

Not only does weakness strip away our independence and pride; it also sanctifies our affections. In other words, it helps us love what we should love and hate what we ought to hate. Paul admits that he “takes pleasure” and “boasts” in his weakness (2 Cor. 12:9–10). As unbelievable as that sounds, Paul actually found pleasure in whatever it was that he begged God to take away from Him. This doesn’t mean that he was a masochist, but that in the end, his pleasure wasn’t found in or defined by his own comfort. Instead, he took joy in what would allow the power of Christ to shine through him. 

We sinful humans tend to idolize control, approval, and comfort. Weakness, in its various forms, can easily strip away all three of those things. We must admit that we’re not in control and surrender ourselves to God’s painful providence. We must live with physical, emotional, or relational discomfort. And since the world prizes strength, our weakness will probably diminish our approval in the eyes of others. However, the winnowing away of these three idolatrous passions will cast us upon the One who is worthy of all our affections. Charles Spurgeon, the prince of preachers who himself knew much about weakness, could proclaim, “I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.”1

True biblical strength doesn’t require bulky muscles, four-minute miles, or six-pack abs. Biblical strength starts with weakness and blossoms into humility, dependence, and sanctified affections. 

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1 To be fair, we don’t know for sure that he ever said exactly this. Perhaps he said it in one of his sermons, but nothing that exists today from Spurgeon contains this quote. One Spurgeon scholar cites this as the likely source of this famous aphorism: “The wave of temptation may even wash you higher up upon the Rock of ages, so that you cling to it with a firmer grip than you have ever done before, and so again where sin abounds, grace will much more abound.” Qtd in https://www.spurgeon.org/resource-library/blog-entries/6-quotes-spurgeon-didnt-say/, accessed 12/16/24.