What Will He Do In Our Weakness?

When Christians gather and sing, “Victory in Jesus,” most testimonies that follow tell of some great accomplishment that someone has been a part of, usually take credit for or allow others to praise them for, yet always want to “give all the glory to God.” Ever hear any of those stories?

After reading today’s writing by Michael, let us ask ourselves, “When is the last time I have heard a testimony like this?”

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.--James 1:17

I was on an international trip when I was asked to have tea with an evangelist before a church service. The purpose of our time together, as it turned out, was so that he could reveal that I do not read my Bible the proper way, that Westerners cannot really minister in this country, my messages are a bit too complex, and the altar call was done entirely in the wrong manner. I received it; I can see it is difficult to have me around and I am a real labor for this person. Therefore, here is how I began the meeting that followed. "I am aware of my weaknesses when I travel in another country. I do not speak your language, I wear the wrong clothing, I do not preach, pray, or have an altar call as you would, and I am going to mess up many things. I want to acknowledge this and ask for your prayers. If anything comes out of the meeting, it will have to be God, and it will be obvious to all. I am happy to stand here and say, ‘I can't,’ because that confession stirs something else in me: the assurance that He can.” Well, the people really prayed for me, and God gave a wonderful message on the Lord's Prayer. The weakest believer who goes to Jesus is better off than those with great understanding and little time spent with the Lord. I told them of the leper, Michael Francis, a believer and a law student in India that developed leprosy. His wife took the kids and abandoned him. He died a homeless beggar. Before he died, Alex Mathew asked him, "Michael, what is abiding?" As he sat on the concrete platform, ears, fingers, and toes eaten away, Michael moved his palm across the sidewalk and said, "See this cement that I sleep on? It is as soft as velvet to me, for it is the very lap of Jesus. Every night He holds me here. That is abiding." He did not know much, but he knew Jesus.