"In hoc signo vinces!" Caesar Constantine, according to the legend, saw a cross with the words "In this sign conquer." As the story goes, Constantine professed adherence to the Christian faith, induced thousands of his people to do likewise, and made Christianity a legal religion of the Roman Empire. We may debate the genuineness of the Emperor's conversion and argue over the changes it brought to the Christian movement. This has been done, ad infinitum and ad nauseum. But the statement itself, "In this sign conquer" -- "In hoc signo vinces" -- is itself both a profound declaration and also one easily misinterpreted. The Cross is itself a paradox. An "emblem of suffering and shame," it has been transformed into a symbol of success, victory, power, and conquest. It adorns our sanctuaries, surmounts our steeples, ornaments our wearing apparel, marks the graves of our fallen warriors, and graces the national flags of many countries. It was not always thus. Once it represented shame, disgrace, and a scandal. It was the hangman's noose of its day. It stood for the just punishment of the vilest criminals. So, once upon a time to honour the cross was for many to signify approval of lawlessness, of anarchy, of utter corruption of decency and morality. It is against this background of shame and disgrace that the words of the Apostle Paul stand out in their bold declaration of pride: "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross --- " (Galatians 6:14). * * * But the Cross was more than a symbol of shame. It is also the emblem of weakness. In our country today, with its overwhelming emphasis upon power and strength, achievement and success, dominion and demonstrations, rights and privileges, the Christian Cross stands for weakness. In a society which ignores, tramples upon, and despises it, we need to promote and proclaim a theology of weakness. Paul said that Jesus "was crucified through weakness." (II Corinthians 13:4). He, Who could have summoned seventy-two thousand angels to His aid (Matthew 26:53), was so weak He could not carry even His own cross to the place of execution (See Matthew 27:32, Mark 5:21, Luke 23:26). He was "sown in weakness" (I Corinthians 15:43). * * * The Apostle Paul learned to glory in weakness. He learned the hard way. He learned through his own "thorn in the flesh" to "glory in (his) infirmities" (II Corinthians 12:7, 9); and he learned by the hardships and discouragements of his evangelistic efforts. Viewed from its immediate results, the Second Missionary Journey was a disaster. Preceded by a violent argument and breakup with Barnabas, Paul's trip began by braving the perils of the Cilician Gates (the order of cities in Galatia listed in Acts 16:1 suggests that Paul and Silas traveled by this route through the mountain pass - see II Corinthians 11:26: "in perils of robbers - in perils in the wilderness.") Forbidden to turn to the left to preach (Acts 16:6 - imagine one called to preach but forbidden by God to preach!) and not allowed to turn to the right (to Bithynia - Acts 16:7), they came to "land's end": to Troy. So they crossed the sea: to Philippi. Seeking for the "man of Macedonia," they found only a group of women (Acts 16:9, 13). Imprisoned in Philippi, driven out of Thessalonica, forced to leave Berea, Paul came down to Athens. Then when he proclaimed the resurrection, he was laughed out of Athens (Acts 17:32). So, alone, he traveled over to Corinth. On his way across the isthmus, Paul evidently thought long and hard: about his troubles, about his program, about his message. When he said, "I determined," (I Corinthians 2:2), the word implies a carefully wrought-out decision. What was his decision? It was to limit himself to one theme: "Jesus Messiah and Him crucified!" And when in Corinth, Paul felt so weak and fearful (I Corinthians 2:3) that Jesus Himself had to appear to him, and say: "stop being afraid; go on preaching" (Acts 18:9). Yes, Paul learned the meaning of weakness. He learned the meaning of the Cross! * * * Weakness, for Paul, meant more than something in which to glory. It meant the pinnacle of fellowship with Jesus. When he wrote to the Philippians, he was a prisoner (Philippians 1:13), and he wrote to a suffering church (1:29). In his letter he bared his heart's feelings. Paul in his epistle took inventory of his personal assets and liabilities. (We ourselves learn to do this with our finances each year, thanks to the prodding of the IRS). Paul listed his assets: Philippians 3:5-6. But then he said, "these are not assets at all - they are liabilities. 'What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Messiah.'" (Philippians 3:7). And even that was not enough, for he went on to say, "I have no assets at all, only losses" (3:8); no assets, that is, except for one: his fellowship with Jesus. He said he had a threefold goal, and in an ascending order. His first rung in the ladder of "success" was to know Jesus (3:10). But wonderful as that would be, it was only the first step in Paul's road to Christian maturity. The next step was to learn "the power of His resurrection." But even that was not enough. The highest goal was to experience "the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death." Fellowship with Jesus in His sufferings! What does this mean for us? What should it mean for us? When one of us is sick and in pain, we bemoan our fate. When a friend is ill, we commiserate with him and pray for his speedy recovery. Then when he is better we rejoice. -- But maybe, just maybe, we are missing something here. When in pain, and only when in pain, can we begin to empathize with Jesus in His sufferings for us. Pain, so perceived, can be a blessing and a privilege. While we do not seek pain, either for ourselves or for anyone else, when it comes we should find reason to rejoice, for then we have the chance to begin to experience in some small way, "the fellowship of His sufferings." * * * Furthermore, in the plans of God, weakness is the road to true success. This is brought out in the story of Jacob's strange nocturnal wrestling match. (See Genesis 32:24-32). Jacob, in his own strength, wrestled with the Stranger all the night long, and the Stranger did not prevail. Did not prevail, that is, until He dislocated Jacob's thigh. Let us pause and look at the situation at that point. Jacob, the strong one, was suddenly made weak. The agony and the shock of that touch rendered Jacob instantly impotent, powerless, unable to go on. But it was in that weakness (and not before) that he clung to the Stranger and demanded a blessing. And what was the blessing? He was given the conqueror's name: God's mighty warrior-prince (Israel). He, who had wrestled all night long, conquered not in his strength but in his weakness. In fact, it was his very weakness that conquered. * * * All this is part of the purpose and plan of God. It is seen in the animal world. The defeated animal, knowing he has lost, rolls over on his back and bares his throat to the jaws of his conqueror. And what happens? By some strange effect, the victorious beast is rendered powerless to deliver the coup-de-grace. He cannot kill the victim. Mahatma Gandhi proved it by his passive resistance. All the power and might of the British Empire could not overcome his non-violent opposition. It is harder to lift and carry a one-hundred-pound sack of flour that to tote a two-hundred pound barbell. God, said Paul, has decreed that weakness should prevail over strength. "God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are," and the reason for this paradox, concluded Paul, is that God is jealous of His own glory: "That no flesh should glory in His presence." (I Corinthians 1:27-29). * * * What should this mean for us? First of all, we should not use power tactics to gain our ends. In our religious gatherings we need not enlist "name" speakers, "successful" businessmen, highly placed politicians, and clever advertising to promote our cause. To do thus is to thwart God's glory from shining through our weakness. Secondly, we should not use our own apparent weakness or our supposed lack of talent as an excuse to fail to attempt our God-given task. It is not even that God will give us strength, but rather that God will accomplish His work by means of our weakness. The greatest work of all history was the atonement of Calvary, and it was performed "through weakness." It was a greater miracle than the Resurrection, for how could God (or God's Son) die? But die He did, and He died "through weakness." Thirdly, whatever we are given to do in God's service, we should do it without looking for success. How can we judge what is successful? Only One standing in eternity can see and judge that. * * * Judged by such criteria, our Christian work, our spiritual goals, our sacred values, will be the exact opposite of most of that which we see around us, both in the secular world and, sad to say, in much that passes for religious achievement. But if the meaning of weakness be herein interpreted correctly, it stands both in condemnation of the world's way and also as the true pathway to fulfilling the divine purposes and as meriting the divine blessing. "When I am weak," said Paul, "then am I strong." (II Corinthians 12:10). The Cross, the symbol of weakness, is the sign of victory. In hoc signo vinces. In this sign conquer. --- Norman L. MacLeod, Jr. |