I swallow and wince at rawness in my throat. Hours pass but it and swelling in neck glands don’t, so I stay home from church, and later Husband shares a sermon.
In it, smallish David faces huge Goliath. Then the message, near its end, jumps to Paul reminding those in Corinth how he formerly faced them: “not in excellence of speech or of wisdom… but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power…” but, also paradoxically, “in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling” (1 Cor 2:1-4).
Then the grace stuff of 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 binds weakness and victory tight together as Paul declares, “When I am weak, then I am strong” [in God’s power].
But what stood out for me was that word “trembling.”
I’d read that before, many times. So it didn’t shock me with its presence now. It just finally sank in! Paul himself says he was actually in fear, and much trembling.”
We don’t think of him much this way, do we? With Paul as with David, we imagine bold and forthright confidence.
Did David tremble when he faced Goliath? Well may be.
These thoughts fortify my wimpy heart.
I tremble sometimes. I just said so in my last post, about true grit.
But all this tells me that doesn’t matter. It’s what you choose to do, because of, or in spite of, your trembling. She who does the bravery God commands, with knocking knees, by calling on Him for the resources sorely lacking in herself, exhibits greater strength, it seems, than he who feels powerful in himself. For “the weakness of God is stronger than men” (1 Cor 1:25), and His “strength is made perfect in [our] weakness” (2 Cor 12:9).
The sermon said something else, something I’d rather not hear: How God evidently prepared David for facing that giant, in earlier conflicts with lion and bear (1 Sa 17:36). Equipped him.
At this I wince. The all-pervading wimp within hopes this sermon isn’t equipping me for future battle. Because I know I’ll tremble.