Power is Made Perfect in Weakness

Power is Made Perfect in Weakness

The “word of the day” at Manna House this morning was, “but God said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me” (2 Corinthians 12:9).  This was a day of power in the midst of grief, and in the midst of fear.

            Tom is a regular at Manna House.  He comes every day.  He showers once a week.  He always gets “socks and hygiene” on the day he doesn’t shower, and he gets “socks and soap” on women’s shower day.  He is not on the streets, but he is poor, despite working two jobs.  He stretches his earnings by coming to Manna House.  This past summer, he called me aside one morning when I arrived early to open the gate and then go in to start the coffee.   

            “Pete,” he said, “I’ve got problems.  I need you to pray for me when we pray.”

            “What kind of problems?”

            “I’ve got three problems,” and then he proceeded to list them.  They weren’t big problems; just things he needed make his life a bit more comfortable.  So, when we prayed at opening, I shared Tom’s problems, and asked God to solve those problems. And a few days later he told me his problems were all solved.

            “Pete, I got no problems today.”

            This morning, Tom didn’t tell me he had any problems.  But he did pull me aside about mid-morning to tell me that his sister had suddenly died on Sunday.  He would be going to the funeral in Mississippi. 

            “I haven’t been there for forty years.  I never wanted to go back.  But I have to go now.”

            As he said this, his eyes began to tear, and he had difficulty speaking, “I don’t know.  It’s just hard. I need to spend some time with my family.”

            I stood with him in silence for a while, then touched him lightly on the shoulder and said I’d keep him in prayer.  I learned later he had shared his grief with a few other volunteers as well.  Tom, I hope, felt some power, some strength to hold him up in his grief.

            Not much after Tom told me about the death of his sister, I saw Antonio arrive.  “Liberation for the captive!” I shouted.  I had known that Antonio was in prison.  He came up with a big smile and we embraced. 

            “Welcome back!  Delighted to see you out!”

            Antonio smiled and said he was happy to be out, but then shared some of his grief, “Did you hear that when I was in prison my Mom died?  I missed her funeral.”

            “How are you now?”

            “I’m doing ok.  You know, I just try to go on. I had to come today just to tell you and Kathleen.”  There’s a power to carry on in sharing grief.

            Near the end of the morning Nakumah arrived riding his decorated and heavy laden bike.  He went to his usual spot in the far corner of the front yard.  And from there he gestured to another guest, Lionel, with whom I was talking.  Lionel and Nakumah do not get along.  On many occasions Lionel has told me that Nakumah is of the devil, and that he is dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed at Manna House.  I’ve tried to reassure Lionel that Nakumah struggles with mental illness.  But, I didn’t know what to make of Nakumah signaling Lionel to come over to him.  I feared the worst.  A fight might be coming.

            But Lionel went over, and then power appeared in the midst of weakness, in the midst of fear.  He and Nakumah had a brief conversation before Lionel walked away from Nakumah, and got a cup of coffee.  He carefully mixed in some sugar and creamer, and brought the coffee back to Nakumah.

            When Lionel returned to the porch where I stood, I asked him why he had done that.  “He told me he couldn’t get his own coffee because he needed to watch his bike.  I had to love him and not fear him and serve him.  I follow Jesus after all.”