"... A thorn was given me in the flesh ..." 2 Corinthians 12:7, RSV

Paul had a problem. We don’t know what the problem was. We only know that Paul called it his "thorn in the flesh."

A thorn. Paul spoke of his limited humanity, his suffering, his weakness, his problem in terms of a thorn. How about your problems?

A thorn. Perhaps it was a sickness which Paul experienced. Some say it was epilepsy. Do you have a physical adversity which can help you turn in a deeper way to God and find grace to sustain you?

A thorn. Perhaps it was a psychological burden for Paul. Arguments with other Christians like Peter? Disappointment at John, Mark, or Barnabas? Loneliness when so many were too busy with "doing their own thing"? Have you felt any of these burdens?

A thorn. Perhaps it was some spiritual temptation for Paul. Pride? Arrogance? Hostility? "The good that I would do ... I don’t do," Paul wrote. Sound familiar?

Yet, Paul was used mightily by God. He acknowledged his weaknesses. He lived by grace alone, following the way of Jesus.

At first glance there may seem to be little connection between Paul’s problem and the problem in Nazareth where Jesus was rejected.

At the intersection of Jesus’ early ministry (in the Gospel of Mark, Chapters 1-5) and the beginning of the final journey ending in Jerusalem (Mark 6:6ff), we have the story of Jesus’ rejection in his own town of Nazareth. The foreshadowing of the cross is experienced as Jesus is rejected by his own people. Jesus failed to get his point across. The heart of the story is the hard-heartedness and stubbornness of the townsfolk. They even go so far as to ridicule Jesus; "Is not this the carpenter, Mary’s son...?" (stated); "Who does he think he is?" (implied). Familiarity breeds contempt.

Contempt comes in a highly dramatic moment. Jesus returns home and no one will listen to him. The last line of the dramatic little story is: "He was amazed at their lack of faith" (Mark 6:7).

In stark contrast to the triumphant Lordship of the earlier chapters of Mark, almost as if to announce the forthcoming rejection of the gospel by many, this vignette contains more than it appears to contain at first glance. In Jesus’ failure to get his point across at Nazareth, we have a hint of his apparent failure to get his point across at Calvary.

In the story of the hometown boy who is a carpenter but thinks he is more, we have the ultimate conflict, the bind, for all of us. We all must deal with the question of Nazareth: "Who is this?" "Who is this that even the wind and waves obey him?" Mark has the apostles asking in chapter four, "Who is this?" We ask that question of the healing of the demoniac, the woman with the issue of blood and Jairus’ daughter in chapter five of Mark.

"Who is this?" the people of Nazareth ask in a different way as we hit the intersection between the early ministry and the final journey of Jesus here in chapter six of Mark.

The first part of the answer is a surprise.

God is a Carpenter

That God is high and holy, distant and different, we naturally grasp. What else does it mean for God to be God if it doesn’t mean that he is what German theologians call "the Totaliter Aliter" - the Totally Other?

That God should be born as a baby in a stable in Bethlehem, be raised in a carpenter’s home in Nazareth; that God should go about in the garb of a nobody; that is shocking. We have heard the story so often that some of the shocking aspects of this statement - "God was a carpenter named Jesus" - may not be fully appreciated.

We need to hear this statement of the divine becoming human in all of its astonishing and bewildering splendor. In the lofty words of John 1:14, "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." It is put in a plainer package here in Mark. That flesh was a carpenter’s son who himself plied the carpenter’s trade - a Nazarene named Jesus. The divine entered the human.

Why is this so important? Because is shows how far God will descend to lift us up. God entered the dust in order to take us to the heavens. God became ordinary in order to make us extraordinary. God was an apparent failure to bring us more success than we ever dreamed possible. To do the seemingly impossible, God did the incomprehensible. He became a carpenter.

Why is this so important? Because carpenters make things. The Greek word used in Mark 6:3 is terton which means craftsman. Jesus made tables and chairs, cabinets and carts, sheds and houses for the people of Nazareth. A respected handyman and builder, Jesus the woodworker was also Jesus the builder of men and women. It is no accident that the sign of the fall of humankind is a tree (in Eden). It is no accident that the sign of our rising is a tree, the cross (at Calvary). It is no accident that the mask which God chose to wear on earth was the garb of a carpenter. Carpenters use wood to build. Jesus was a builder - the builder of what came to be called "the Kingdom of God."

Why is this so important? Because it shows that Jesus was human. That is one of the ways he accomplished his building. He really was

bone of my bone,
flesh of my flesh,
blood of my blood,
my brother.

There is nothing I will ever go through which he does not understand from the inside - as one who experiences it. The humanity of Jesus is surprising and encouraging. It helps me to know that I am not alone

in my loneliness,
in my sorrow,
in my suffering,
in my grieving,
in my temptations.

The book of Hebrews says that Jesus experiences all the temptations of humankind. Think of it. There is no temptation which you go through which Jesus avoided. He knows them all - from the inside.

That is Paul’s point, too, when he speaks about his "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). "I besought the Lord about it three times," Paul says, "but he said to me: ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’."

God uses the weak, the humble, the seeming failures in life, the apparent nobodies, to build his Kingdom.

That is what real humility is - living by grace, living by the power of God in the weakness of our own bodies with all their limits.

God showed the way. God became a carpenter named Jesus.

That is surprising. The opposite truth is also surprising:

That Carpenter is God

In Nazareth that was the surprise. "That carpenter, Jesus, the one whom we have known from boyhood, the one who is Mary’s son, the one whose brothers and sisters we know - he is claiming to be a rabbi." The people took offense at the appearance of a common man - one of them, - an unlearned man, - from their own humble town, - a working man from their own class, masquerading as a rabbi. Do you feel the scandal of it? They did not know it then, but the scandal was compounded a hundredfold. Jesus did not just claim to be a rabbi. He claimed to be God. That’s authority.

Authority. Jesus claimed and demonstrated authority and power everywhere he went. He showed the authority of God.

Authority. Jesus spoke with authority. "Where did this man get all this authority?" the people asked. They knew his human history - a carpenter who was the son of a carpenter. People from his own town took offense at what Jesus said with authority.

Authority. Jesus spoke with the authority of God. Even then, some turned away. We should not be surprised today when people are preoccupied with trivialities and caught in the satanic power of the "Me Generation." It has always been so.

Authority. "Shall we call down lightning and destroy those who reject the gospel?" the Apostles once asked. "No," said Jesus. "Give them time - time to return, time to repent, time to be reborn." God has so much authority that he can act slowly, wisely, patiently. Thus, some in time find God.

Authority. God’s authority is an awesome and hopeful sign - awesome because it is ultimate; hopeful because it gives us a ultimate point of reference.

Yet, even hearing the authority of God, the people of Nazareth rejected Jesus because of their unbelief.

Unbelief. Jesus’ authority was sensed, but many still refused to accept it.

Unbelief. Jesus marveled at the unbelief of the people of Nazareth, his hometown. Did familiarity breed contempt instead of faith? Does it today?

Unbelief. Is that our problem today too? Do we refuse to believe? If so, why? Are we doubting for good reasons? Do people reject Christ because of their immoral behavior? Their ungodly lifestyle?

Unbelief. Was the problem in Nazareth an unwillingness to change? Is it today?

Unbelief. Did the people of Nazareth struggle intellectually and then reject the teachings of Christ or were they just stubborn and set in their ways? Is that true today?

Unbelief. Choosing not to believe in spite of evidence. Is that the trouble today too? If we were willing to act on what we believe instead of acting on what we do not believe, we would learn to believe more. A wise bishop remarked. "More people act themselves into right ways of thinking than think themselves into right ways of acting."

Rebellious, obstinate, stubborn resistance - that is what unbelief is. Willfulness. Pride. Arrogance. The biblical corrective is to live by the sufficiency of God’s grace.

There are always some - in our day more plentiful than in Jesus’ day - about whom it is said that God marvels at their unbelief.

God has descended from on high to take us, his children, to the heavens. He suffered. He went all the way to the cross. That carpenter is God, the Savior of the world. If I had my life to live over again, I certainly would see him more, love him more, and serve him more.

An 85-year-old woman wrote:

If I Had My Life to Live Over

I’d dare to make more mistakes next time. I’d relax, I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I’m one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had it to do over again, I’d have more of them. In fact, I’d try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.

Nadine Stair,
85 years old
Louisville, KY

That is all true enough, but the larger truth is that if I had my life to live over again, I would give more of my life to God and be less caught in the chaos; I would give more of my life to God, and be less trapped in the trivial; I would give more of my life to God, and I would live by the sufficiency of God’s grace.

I do not have to live my life over, but I can make decisions for the rest of my life. Here. Now. Today.

Lord Jesus, come into my heart today. Lord, Jesus, come into my heart to stay. Thorns and all, weaknesses abounding, problems at every turn in the road of life; nevertheless, Lord Jesus, come into my heart to stay.