But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:9–10).

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ (Philippians 1:6).

It’s a counterintuitive yet consoling truth: Christ will display his power through our frailty. And because we are a frail bunch, the risen Lord has ample opportunities to show himself strong for us. This remains true throughout all seasons of life.

Some of us are currently basking in the warmth of God’s love, enjoying vibrant mornings in his Word, where each verse is resonating deeply and connecting with us powerfully. We’re in a season of blessing. Life is good. God feels present.

But that’s not true for all of us at this moment.

Others of us are living with a gnawing sense of emptiness, alone—or so it feels—on an island of despair. We’re heaving prayers heavenward, but to no avail. Nothing changes. God feels distant.

For still others, it’s not that we’re awash with a sense of God’s goodness or traversing through a heavy fog of tribulation, it’s simply the grueling toil of the daily battle that leaves us nicely winded: there’s the steady stream of bad news that tires us; there’s the incessant noise that crowds out quiet reflection; there’s the headache-inducing relational strife that weighs us down.

Then there’s the recurring bouts with our besetting sins: Our insecure longing for human applause; the slavery of our self-obsession; the prickling sense of resentment we feel when good fortune befalls someone we deem unworthy of such blessings. You know what I mean.

And yet here we are—each one of us, monuments of God’s grace. We’ve gone from prodigal sons and daughters to recipients of God’s prodigal generosity. Our lives are suffused with hope. We have the rich promises of God’s Word—all of them. We’re the objects of God’s affection and the beneficiaries of his thoughtfulness—all the time. (I sometimes wonder if the only proper response to this is to belly laugh.)

But there’s more: We have each other. God blesses us with the soul-enriching fellowship of other believers who invest in us, speak truth to us, and cheer us on.

Yes, struggle is the familiar landscape of life in this fallen world. But as our Lord Jesus urged his disciples, “lift up your heads; for your redemption is drawing near” (Lk. 21:28). A better country is barreling toward us in Christ’s return.

Maranatha! Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Your people wait for you.