HE HAD PLANTED the church and stayed with the congregation for a year and a half as it grew. Feeling led to pursue other ministry projects, he left the church in the hands of good and trustworthy leaders. He loved the people and kept in touch, because from time to time some of them still wanted his pastoral advice on a variety of matters.

But not everyone in the congregation was a fan. It didn’t help that some visitors, who had heard stories about him, started undermining his reputation. “Look, he’s supposed to have been called by God to do this work, right?” they would ask. “Then why does he run into so many problems? If God is really with him, then why does he keep getting into trouble?” They were trying to plant doubts in the people’s minds, so they could promote their own ministry and take his place.

When the man heard about this, he wrote to the congregation. All right, he said, if they want to play that game, let’s play. If they want to boast in their ministry, then I’ll boast too, even though I think it’s utter foolishness. Here’s what he wrote:

Whatever anyone else dares to boast about—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast about. Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they Abraham’s descendants? So am I. Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers. I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. (2 Cor 11:21-30)

These, of course, are the words of the apostle Paul. Reading between the lines of his letter, we should probably envision some people coming to Corinth and promoting themselves as genuine, even eminent apostles. Hoping to gain the church’s support, they boasted about themselves and cast aspersions on Paul. And in response, Paul took up the boasting game and turned it on its head. Instead of bragging about his accomplishments, he boasted in his suffering and weakness.

After all, Jesus had already told him in a vision, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). Because of this, Paul was able to tell the Corinthians,

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (vss. 9-10)

Let’s face it: we’re more likely to think like the false apostles in Corinth than to think like Paul. We admire strength, not weakness. If catastrophes happen in a ministry context, our first inclination would probably be to wonder what people did to deserve it.

Don’t get me wrong: some ministry failures are indeed at least partly due the ignorance or arrogance of ministry leaders. But Paul’s words challenge some of our most basic assumptions of success and competence. Speaking for myself, I want to believe that if I learn enough, get good enough, get strong enough, I will succeed in whatever God calls me to do with only minor setbacks. No floggings, no shipwrecks. And I would most definitely not take delight in being insulted or persecuted.

Am I the only one? I doubt it. And guess what? Jesus agrees with Paul.

THINK BACK TO the words of Jesus’ eighth beatitude at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount:

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matt 5:10, NIV)

The verse acts like a double bookend. By speaking of the kingdom of heaven, it echoes the first beatitude; by speaking of righteousness, it echoes the fourth. In the kingdom of heaven, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness and justice will live righteously and justly — and sometimes be persecuted. Jesus elaborates in the next two verses:

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (vss. 11-12)

In verse 10, Jesus blessed those who are persecuted because of righteousness; in verse 11, he blesses those who are persecuted because of him. The righteousness of the blessed is not merely adherence to a set of moral rules — it’s allegiance to Jesus, who himself was persecuted, not to mention a whole line of prophets before him. The word “prophets” here doesn’t have to refer only to the ones we know, like Isaiah, Jeremiah, or Ezekiel; Jesus may be referring to anyone who dared to speak God’s truth to powerful people and suffered the consequences.

IN JUST A handful of strikingly pithy verses, the Beatitudes encapsulate for us what theologian Donald Kraybill once called “the upside-down kingdom.” In the kingdom of heaven, those who are weak are paradoxically blessed because their weakness puts the strength of God on display.

The apostle Paul was probably not an impressive orator, and by some accounts he may not have been much to look at either. But few mortal men have made as much of an impact on human history. What God accomplished through him was so much more than he could ever have accomplished on his own.

And he knew it. He knew that without the direct intervention of Jesus in his life on the Damascus road he would have been running hard in the wrong direction, patting himself on the back for his righteous zeal, ignorant that he was opposing God.

None of this is to say that Paul “enjoyed” his life of danger and suffering. In different places he admits to the Corinthians that he first came to them “in fear and trembling” (1 Cor 2:3), and even “despaired of life itself” when the pressure got to be too intense elsewhere (2 Cor 1:8). But God proved faithful again and again, strengthening Paul’s faith and helping him to see beyond the struggles of the moment.

We may never suffer as Paul did. But as citizens of God’s kingdom, we too are invited to trust in the strength of our King. And when we do, we no longer have to fear our weaknesses.