“Light shines in the darkness for the godly. They are generous, compassionate, and righteous.”
Psalm 112:4, NLT
The glory of Jesus lies in this: in weakness, vulnerability, and apparent failure. He has called forth disciples to come after Him, willing and able to carry the cross and relive His passion with compassion.
They are marginal people, not part of the scene, irrelevant to the “action.” In their ministry or quiet presence they do not need to win or compete. They may even look like losers, even if its just to themselves.
The world ignores them. But they are building “the Kingdom of God” on earth by reaching out in vulnerability and weakness to share the suffering of their brothers. They work by love rather than continue in sin.
“Where the compassionate One is, there will His servants be.”
Brennan Manning, “Reflections for Ragamuffins.”
From an entry dated June 27th. “A Stranger to Self Hatred,” by Brennan Manning.
Copyright @ 1982 by Brennan Manning, reprinted by permission of Dimension Books, Inc.
“Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.”
“Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
Psalm 73, ESV
Be honest–how close do you want God to be? How near is near enough? It fascinates me, but the promise from Psalm 73 is for a continuous presence. There is no flickering, no jumping about. He is steady. He does not flit or fluctuate or change His mind.
He is always and forever aware of you.
He graciously provides unwavering guidance, free of charge. In the labyrinth of life, where challenges abound, His wisdom serves as a compass, directing us towards real purpose. Embracing His guidance, we discover that our navigation through perplexing days becomes remarkably smoother. By acknowledging His constant presence and we can finally open our hearts to His voice.
He is not far away.
Perhaps this psalm is your ‘umbilical cord’ that’s attached to heavenly places. In Psalm 27:25, a profound realization is articulated:
“There is no one in heaven but you, and there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.”
Psalm 71 feeds us and gives us a radical strength to stand up and be authentic. The writer is completely over with the things of this earth. He desires only heavenly things, that which comes from looking at eternity.
And yet we often lament our spiritual feebleness and feel unable to change despite all our efforts. We can be filled in the morning, and suddenly be empty in the afternoon. Our hearts are like a leaky pail, unable to retain the grace and mercy that the Holy Spirit pumps out on us.
We are leaky buckets. We must stay under God’s spout. He promises us that the water will always come. He never stops pouring out.
“For behold, those who are far from you shall perish; you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.”
“But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.”
Psalm 73, ESV
God draws a person, but coming close is your choice.
The Psalmist beautifully expresses the profound realization that being close to God brings immense goodness. David understands the value of seeking refuge in God, finding comfort and protection in His loving presence. It requires genuine effort and commitment to make God our safe haven, like a reliable shelter for our souls.
“…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.“
Philippians 2:12
Moreover, the Psalmist embraces the responsibility of sharing these incredible works of God, recognizing the importance of spreading His love and miracles with others.
The believer is equipping himself to witness to others.
It’s easy to romanticize physical suffering — especially when you’re not the one experiencing it.
Saints like Amy Carmichael, who spent over twenty years bedridden, and Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who lives in constant pain, can evoke peaceful images of unbroken communion with God. We may imagine that it’s easier for them to endure pain and weakness than it is for the rest of us.
Yet the reality of physical suffering is that it’s insistent and intrusive. No one gets used to it. Pain demands our attention. Time slows to a crawl, particularly in the middle of the night, when we’re begging God for the relief of sleep. We feel alone and isolated. No one else can enter the prison that our bodies have become.
Pain Accumulates
If that weren’t enough, physical pain rarely exists in isolation — it’s usually accompanied by loss, weakness, and dependence. Often, we require help with basic daily needs, and we worry about the burden we’re putting on others. We second-guess every request, not wanting to bother someone one more time. Will people get tired and think we’re “too much”? Do they resent their lack of freedom?
We longingly remember the carefree days before our physical struggles altered our lives, when we could do what we wanted. Now we measure our energy in teaspoons rather than buckets. We weigh every decision, every action. Saying yes to one activity means saying no to many others. It is hard not to envy those with fit bodies, who seem to have no cares.
Pain, loneliness, and longing can give way to depression and despair. We cry out to the Lord for relief, but relief doesn’t come. The cancer spreads. Sleep eludes us. The pain intensifies. The medicine stops working. The side effects multiply. Our caregivers grow weary. Our friends stop checking in. Our resources run dry.
Doubt Advances
The vibrant faith we once had begins to fade — which is exactly what Satan wants to happen as we suffer. He wants us to doubt and fall away from God, convinced that he is indifferent to our cries. Satan knows that we’re susceptible to discouragement when we’re physically depleted, so that’s when he attacks. As physical needs scream for attention, Satan whispers to us, “Does God even hear you, let alone really care for you? If he does, why isn’t he delivering you?”
“If God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance.”
Insidious doubts slip in, making us question beliefs we once held rock-solid: Are we deeply loved by an all-powerful Father? As soon as we recognize the mental shift, we need to stop and cry out to God, asking him to meet us in our sorrow, to deliver us from our pain, and to show us evidence of his goodness and love. Are we fixating on all that we’ve lost, on how God hasn’t delivered us, on how hopeless we feel? Or do we recognize that God is with us, working for our good, and caring for us each moment?
What we think about in the moments of our deepest pain is critical. Our mindset will determine how we approach the questions that bombard us. Here are three common questions I’ve asked:
How can God be “for me” if I’m still suffering?
How can God use my weakness for good?
What good can come in moments of overwhelming pain?
How can God be ‘for me’ if I’m still suffering?
Sometimes God miraculously delivers us when we plead for relief, like at the parting of the Red Sea. Other times he sustains us, as he did with manna in the wilderness. The Red Sea deliverance freed the Israelites, but their need for manna kept them dependent on God. In gathering manna, they had a harder time forgetting their reliance on God. And if God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance, since it can keep us in constant communion with him.
Take the apostle Paul. He begged God for deliverance from his thorn in the flesh, but instead he received grace — grace to bear the thorn, grace to be content with weakness, grace that would carry him through other trials as well (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).
When we realize that we can depend on God in our weakness, we learn to trust him in everything. Anyone can thank God for quick deliverance from physical suffering, but we often forget him until the next crisis. Yet when he sustains us in our pain, we’re confident that he is with us always.
How can God use my physical weakness for good?
We may think our physical weakness is keeping us from maximum fruitfulness, but that’s impossible. Our weaknesses are a part of God’s plan for our lives; they are intertwined with our calling. Paul thought his thorn was hampering his ministry, but God knew that it was the key to his strength: it forced Paul to be wholly dependent on God. When we are depleted and exhausted, lacking any resources of our own — it is then that we fully rely on God.
And in that reliance, we discover the power of God flowing through us — the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19–20). This power keeps us enduring when we want to give up; it showcases God’s glory and brings lasting change. Because Paul relied on God’s provision, he accomplished more for the kingdom with his thorn than he could have without it. His greatest strength lay in his submission to Christ.
Even Jesus’s greatest strength appeared in his greatest physical weakness.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus impacted others by his actions. He calmed the storm with a word. He fed five thousand with a few loaves and fish. He cast out demons, healed the sick, and raised the dead. He turned the world upside down.
But at the end of his ministry, from the Last Supper on, Jesus allowed others to act upon him: he was led away, he was whipped and mocked, he was beaten and crucified. When he submitted to his captors, the crowds saw weakness rather than what was really there: Jesus’s strength and power.
Just before these horrific events, Jesus begged God to take the cup of suffering from him. But it was through Christ’s submission to the will of the Father — to torture and humiliation, to physical abuse and carrying his own cross — that God brought about the most astonishing display of his power and grace.
Those of us who are stronger must pray for those who are not.
We need to “stand in the gap” and intercede for those who are struggling so hard. Each of us has a sphere of influence, family, and friends–use it. They’re counting on us to lift their need to the Father.
Let’s pray right now . . .
God our comforter, you are a refuge and a strength for us, a helper close at hand in times of distress. Enable us to defend others so they’ll hear the words of faith. May their fear be dispelled, their loneliness is eased, and anxiety is calmed, and hope reawakened.
May your Holy Spirit lift them above sorrow to the peace and light of your steady constant love; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.
Amen.
These are words of faith that force fear and anxiety to leave, and these words can calm and protect. We truly believe that God’s power can strengthen them. We can trust the Spirit to transform their lives and overcome their weaknesses.
“The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but are powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds.”
2 Cor. 10:4
Let’s pray for all those who are weak and lonely. They need us more than ever.
Brennan Manning, “Reflections for Ragamuffins.”
Broken Believers 