I drifted in and out of sleep; simply incapable of getting comfortable as both the unforgiving mattress, its smell equally disturbing, and my broken body stubbornly refused any resemblance of deep sleep though I was utterly exhausted. Laying quietly, in the crisp, biting, coolness of the morning, my inner thoughts and the outward manifestations of numerous carnal beatings, a singular stoning, and the five horrific Jewish floggings, clearly revealed the ever-present reality of my shattered physical being; my body scarred with scars upon scars, held my skin taut and exasperated the unending struggle for slumber.
Lacking fortitude and or desire to remain a moment longer, I slowly rose to my feet, lightly placed the tattered blanket upon and around my shoulders and shuffled towards the small desk, tucked carefully, near to the small window that would offer some light during the day. But, unfortunately, in the early morning hours it only ushered forth an unwanted cool breeze that even the makeshift weather worn wooden shutters could not withstand.
Sitting down ever so gingerly, I lit the small candle that illuminated the once darkened desktop. The flicker of the candle always created an eerie atmospheric dance upon the walls, and I sat looking deeply into the orchestration of its offering. I silently remained motionless, allowing Him access to my inner thoughts that I knew were within moments and soon to be borne as the awaiting papyrus rustled ever so slightly upon the desk breaking the silence that held the meager room.
I filled the small ink well with a bit of ink, dipped the freshly cut reed into the well and placed it gently upon the papyrus. My hands, not nearly as steady as of late, also disfigured from prior persecutions, took His thoughts, coupled with that of mine, and painstakingly scratched each letter, each word, until before me, rested His presence upon papyrus. With the deterioration of my physically aging body, I sensed these letters would far surpass the reaches of my missionary travels; surely that of my existence as well, and their importance, though increasingly difficult and draining to place upon papyrus, would survive and linger in the hands of future generations of believers to come.
I placed the reed down, re-wrapped the blanket snuggly around my upper torso once again, and reread that which I had just written. A tear, welled up, and then another, until before I knew it, the papyrus became inundated with the volume of each singular tear…
“And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions. In distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong”.
Father, what a beautiful expression of your love for Paul. In his broken state, surely both physically and at times emotionally as well, in his professed weakness, your perfection, your complete abiding within, was ever so present in his life. We can sense it so very deeply in each word, as “self” is all but absent and removed in Paul’s later life. I am certain we too have been in this place of desperation calling upon the Lord for intervention, when life and its difficulties, whether it be disease, sickness, loneliness, desperation, or hopelessness, manifest themselves. These unexpected, unforeseen trials and tribulations come upon us all, relentless in their pursuit of our peace, our happiness, our joy, and our love. At times, their victories weaken our resolve, plague us with uncertainty until we, over time, shrink, lessened if you will, and become incapacitated in their grip. We must, with deliberate perseverance, get alone, nearer to you, willing to tarry long, in that place of intimacy, and expect nothing less than the very essence of Christ, and your unfathomable presence. You long, greatly, to administer the balm of your unconditional love, with a caress not of this world, pure, tender, and specifically intentional to each of our individual needs. As with Paul, we too shall emerge stronger, our focus shifted from that of “self” to that of “self-sacrifice”, serving and loving others, that they too might experience His fullness, His strength and the rest that accompanies its perfection. Oh Lord, scripture floods my soul…
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth froth much fruit”.
“I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”
“To live is Christ, to die is gain”.
Father, today, we yield back to thee, willingly, all that hinders our walk, placing our “selves”, our apprehensions, our fears, our worries, each and every concern directly at the foot of your cross. That we might we rise, emblazoned with nothing less than Paul’s description of himself…
“though I be nothing”
Daniel