Suffering Peaks

This visual titled “Paul’s Three Peaks of Suffering” invites us to skip a theological stone across the rich waters of 2 Corinthians and land briefly on three profound truths from Paul’s experience with suffering. Each of these “peaks” offers a distinct layer to Paul’s theology of weakness, and collectively, they dismantle the illusion of self-sufficiency, replacing it with a gospel-centered vision of power through weakness.

Peak 1 – Self-Sufficiency Denied

2 Corinthians 1:8–9

“We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself… But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.”

Paul does not begin his theology of suffering in abstraction. He starts with his own near-death experience. Burdened beyond measure, Paul confesses that he wanted to die. He was past coping, past control. And yet, he recognizes this as God’s mercy, not His absence. Why? Because God was teaching Paul to stop relying on himself. Self-sufficiency was the enemy, and suffering was the tutor. The gospel doesn’t strengthen the self-reliant; it dismantles them so they can rely on resurrection power.

Peak 2 – Fragile on Purpose

2 Corinthians 4:7

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

Paul’s second lesson builds on the first: we are fragile on purpose. Like jars of clay—cheap, breakable, replaceable—God designed us to be weak containers that hold priceless treasure. Why? So the world can see that the power is from God, not the container. This is countercultural. The world teaches us to hide our weaknesses and flex our strength. But God says, “No. Let them see the cracks. I shine through the broken places.” Fragility is not a flaw; it’s God’s design to display His power.

Peak 3 – Strength Perfected in Weakness

2 Corinthians 12:7–10

“A thorn was given me… to keep me from becoming conceited… My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

The final peak ties it all together. Paul pleads for the removal of his suffering. God denies the request, not because He’s indifferent, but because He’s purposeful. Weakness, in this case, is not a problem to fix but a platform for grace. Paul stops resisting and starts rejoicing. Why? Because the more he weakens, the more God’s power becomes obvious. Weakness, then, becomes a gateway to intimacy with Christ and dependence on grace.

Case Study: Biff Learns to Embrace the Jar of Clay

Biff is a 38-year-old husband, father, and business leader. From the outside, he’s the picture of masculine strength: composed, competent, and driven. He grew up being taught that real men don’t ask for help. As a result, Biff developed a deep-seated commitment to self-reliance. He handled life, ministry, marriage, and parenting with control and confidence—until he couldn’t.

When his business collapsed unexpectedly and his marriage began to show cracks, Biff was thrown into mental disarray. He became angry, defensive, and withdrawn. To cope, he pushed harder, working longer hours, hiding his internal chaos from everyone, including his wife, Mable. But internally, Biff was terrified of being exposed as weak. The very idea of being a fragile “jar of clay” clashed with everything he had believed about manhood.

During counseling, Biff’s pastor took him to 2 Corinthians. At first, Biff bristled. Weakness sounded like failure. But as they walked through these three peaks of suffering, the light began to dawn. Paul, a masculine hero of the faith, didn’t brag about strength; he boasted in dependence.

“God isn’t asking you to be a gold-plated box, Biff,” the pastor said.

“He’s inviting you to be a jar of clay—fragile on purpose, so His power shines through.”

As Biff meditated on these truths, he began to shift. He confessed his addiction to control, his resistance to weakness, and his fear of being truly known. Slowly, he began embracing the truth that God’s grace flows best through cracks.

He sought forgiveness from Mable, not just for his harshness, but for pretending to be something God never asked him to be: self-sufficient. Over time, Biff stopped hiding his struggles and began trusting others, and more importantly, trusting God’s strength through his own weakness.

Paul’s theology of suffering doesn’t flatter the flesh. It crucifies it. It calls us to embrace fragility, to relinquish self-reliance, and to rejoice in the thorns that drive us deeper into grace. For anyone like Biff, and for all of us, this is not just theology. It’s the path to freedom.

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Peace,
Rick