Strength In Weakness

Title: Strength in Weakness

Text: 2 Corinthians 12:1–10

Introduction:

Once, a little girl discovered a cocoon hanging from a branch in the forest. She carefully brought it home, placed it in a jar, and waited with anticipation—one day, she knew, a butterfly would emerge.

Sure enough, she noticed movement. The butterfly was struggling, pushing, twisting—fighting to get through the narrow opening. Her compassionate heart got the best of her. She took scissors and ever so gently cut the cocoon open to help the struggling insect.

The butterfly did emerge—but not how she expected.

Instead of flapping two strong, beautiful wings and soaring through the air, it stumbled out with shriveled, useless wings hanging limply at its sides. It would never fly. It would only crawl.

What she didn’t know was that the struggle to break free from the cocoon is what strengthens the butterfly’s wings. In her kindness, she had short-circuited the struggle—and robbed it of its flight.

We’re not butterflies, but the truth is just as real for us.

We need the pressure.

We need the struggle.

If we’re to grow into the men and women God has called us to be, we must learn what Paul learned: there is strength in weakness.

Background:

Beginning in chapter 10 of 2 Corinthians, Paul is in full defense mode. He’s confronting a group of so-called “super-apostles” who were undermining his authority. They looked at Paul and saw weakness. He didn’t look impressive, didn’t speak with flair, didn’t carry the credentials they thought an apostle should carry.

They didn’t see boldness—they saw frailty.

If Paul lived today, people might say: “Nice guy, but bless his heart, he’s no leader.”

And yet in defending himself, Paul reveals something extraordinary—an experience so profound, he waited fourteen years before mentioning it.

I. A Glimpse of Glory (vv. 1–4)

Paul tells of being “caught up to the third heaven”—to Paradise itself.

He doesn’t even know if it was in the body or out—he’s still unsure.

But he knows what he heard there was… unspeakable.

Not “too beautiful for words,” but not allowed to be spoken.

This wasn’t something to tweet about. He was entrusted with holy mystery.

John was allowed to describe his vision—we have Revelation.

But Paul? He had to keep his mouth shut.

Imagine seeing heaven and not being allowed to tell anyone. (That alone might’ve qualified as the thorn.)

II. A Thorn of Humility (vv. 5–7)

Now, if I had been to Paradise, I’d be tempted to casually mention it at every deacons’ meeting.

“Well, I once visited Paradise—but you were saying something about the carpet color?”

But Paul won’t boast.

He refuses to use that moment to elevate himself.

He doesn’t want anyone to think more highly of him than they should.

Then comes the twist:

“To keep me from exalting myself… a thorn in the flesh was given to me.”

Notice the wording: “was given”—this thorn, as painful as it was, came with purpose. It was a gift, in a strange wrapping.

What was it?

We don’t know. Some think it was poor eyesight. Others suggest epilepsy. Some say depression, or even temptation.

Paul never tells us—and that’s the point.

If he had told us, we’d be tempted to say, “Oh, God’s grace works for that kind of struggle—but not mine.”

God didn’t give us the details, so we would know: His grace is sufficient for every thorn.

III. Grace in the Struggle (vv. 8–10)

Paul pleaded three times for the thorn to be taken away. Not casually—pleaded.

And each time, God answered—not with removal, but with provision.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

God didn’t take away the pain.

He gave grace greater than the pain.

Paul’s response?

“Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses…”

Who says that?

Most of us try to hide our weaknesses. We mask them, minimize them, pray no one sees them.

Paul says: “I boast in them.”

Because when I am weak—that’s when Christ shows up strong.

His weakness didn’t disqualify him from ministry.

It was the very thing that made his ministry real.

Conclusion:

You may feel like you're hanging on by a thread today. Tired. Wounded. Weighed down by a thorn you’ve begged God to remove.

But here’s the truth:

God may not remove the thorn. But He will always give you grace.

And that grace will be enough.

Your greatest impact may not come through your strength, but through your surrender.

Let me ask you:

Are you trying to fight life’s battles in your own strength?

Are you asking God to make life easier… when He may be using that trial to make you stronger?

Friend, don’t shortcut the struggle.

Let the pressure do its work.

Let God’s grace meet you in the weakness.

Today—right now—you can trust Jesus with your weakness.

He already knows about it. He’s not shocked.

And He’s ready to give you His strength.