| Last weekend I accepted one of my hardest teaching challenges: two 20-minute devotionals for a few dozen boys between 3rd and 5th grade. I spoke to them once after breakfast and once during lunch after three hours of dodgeball, BB guns, zip lines, and high ropes. I don’t think I succeeded in getting many of my points across.  From Paul’s letters to the Corinthians we looked at how to work hard in our weakness. I tried to emphasize the strangeness of the gospel. Most of these boys have grown up in the church. Almost all of them attended this retreat with their dad. In a world so shaped by the Christian value of weakness, how do you help them understand the oddity of Paul saying, “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 2:10)? How can Paul say we’re supposed to work hard (1 Cor. 9:24), but also that we’re only strong when we’re weak? It’s like someone telling you to go to the gym and lift weights. But the stronger you get, the less you can lift. It just doesn’t make sense according to human experience. Neither does the Son of God becoming a baby while still upholding infinite galaxies (Heb. 1:3). It doesn’t make sense that this boy would grow up and never sin. He never said anything mean to his brother or sisters. He never talked back to his teachers. He never got mad at his friends. He never stole their food when they weren’t looking. He never sat in the synagogue and wished he were swimming in the sea instead. Things only get weirder from there. He claimed he was the Son of God, he did everything in love—and many people wanted him dead. They killed him, while making it as painful as possible. That’s still not even the weirdest part of the story! This God-man let it all happen. He didn’t need to come to earth at all. He didn’t have to become a baby. He didn’t need to allow himself to die—let alone on a cross, the worst way to go. So why did he do it? Because his power was made perfect in weakness. Because on the cross he died for our sins. He gave up his life to save ours. In his weakness he did nothing less than defeat death. Three days later he rose from the dead. In his weakness, no one has ever been stronger. Something happens when you share the gospel with non-Christians. Or teach it to some boys in elementary school. The familiar becomes strange again. We gain perspective, in humility. We don’t add anything to God. He doesn’t need us. He hung a thousand stars with one word! He painted the skies. He filled up the oceans. He carved the canyons. He walked among us in perfection. He never sinned even as his enemies put him to death. And he’s coming back soon. It’s the strangest—and greatest—story ever told. |