Sufficient
By Anthony Casperson
10-7-23

For a few years, I’ve been dealing with some numbness in my right arm and hand—particularly, my thumb. It was annoying, but didn’t really interfere with my daily life, so I just put up with it. On top of that, my right sinus has been numb for almost as long. And other than occasionally having to remind my body that I am actually breathing when it doesn’t feel air going through the sinus, it hadn’t been that detrimental.

However, a handful of months ago, things took a turn for the worse. The right side of my head (temple, ear, and cheek) fluctuated as to whether or not it had feeling. I figured something had to happen so that this trend wouldn’t continue.

Tests concluded that I have a few herniated disks in my neck. But while they might account for the arm issues, the numbness in the right side of my head doesn’t make sense to the doctors.

The treatments that I’ve undergone so far have done nothing but make things worse. Numbness has occasionally given way to incredible pain. Some started occasionally shooting in my forearm and shoulder, with the muscles near my shoulder blade spasming. And I have a newfound empathy for people who suffer severe migraines, because feeling like a xenomorph wants to burst out of your skull like a hatching egg is not something anyone should have to experience. And to top it all off, my right eye started twitching badly the very same day I wrote this blog.

At the time of posting these words, I’m just about a week away from having an epidural in my neck to try to calm the nerve problems. But again, the treatment is heavily geared toward the nerves in the arm, with the doctors hoping that it’ll solve the head numbness/pain as well.

Needless to say, I’m not as positive in the prospect. History isn’t on my side when it comes to expecting positive change in my life. Especially when it comes to medical things.

And when you throw in all of the psychological thoughts and lies that like to swirl around in my head, it has not been fun to be around me recently. It’s a good thing that I almost always remind us it’s not easy to live in the midst of the Depths of Darkness, because at least my questions and doubts don’t make me a hypocrite.

Tearful pleading with God for healing, or at least that doctors might be able to do something for me, has been a recurring event. I’ve even voiced my feelings that there’s enough going wrong with me that it would take more than one miracle to get close to feeling normal.

But while I was praying one more time for God to take the numbness and pain away, the thought of Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12 came to mind. In verses 7-8, the Apostle spoke of some ailment in his life that he called a thorn in his flesh. And during that period of life, he prayed over and over for God to remove this thorn.

And God’s response? My grace is sufficient for you.

The pained part of me rolled my eyes at God—much like some of you might have done when you saw what passage I was talking about. “I’ve asked a lot more than three times, God. And I’m not an Apostle, like Paul. I’m not that strong. Not that able to withstand this.”

Besides that, I scoffed at the word “sufficient.” The idea of “just enough to eke out survival” came to mind. As if God looked at my pain, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “You’ll live.”

But that’s not what the word for “sufficient” in verse 9 means. This sufficiency carries with it the idea of being satisfied. It’s when you’ve had enough to feel content. Older contexts for the word used it to speak of defenders who strongly stood against some enemy and were able to ward off the trouble.

Experiencing God’s sufficiency doesn’t mean that we’ll be hungry for more in a couple of hours. Instead, we’ll be so completely satisfied that hunger has been entirely warded off. We could even say we’re “thoroughly stuffed,” as Baldur’s Gate 3’s condition calls it after casting the spell Heroes’ Feast.

And this sounds good. In theory. But for those of us in the midst of pain—and numbness—how can we find this sufficiency? How can we be satisfied with the favor of God in the middle of the problems of this life?

I wish I could give some wise and profound answer. Because then I wouldn’t have to live among those same questions in my own life.

But what I can say is that while looking at the verse, I was reminded that there’s another half to God’s response to Paul. God not only says that his grace is sufficient for us, but also that his power is made perfect in weakness.

God’s mighty ability to bring about our growth and his glory finds its fulfillment, its conclusion, in our weakness. When we are at our last ounce of strength, that’s when God’s power can shine.

When I remembered that truth, I felt a desire to pray again. Not for God to take away the pain and the numbness. But instead for him to reveal his power to me. That his boundless might would show his goodness in the midst of the weakness.

Maybe, with a shift in perspective, I can see God’s work through the pain. Both in my life and through it for others. Instead of praying for miracles, I can witness the actual work of God.

And maybe the same shift can help you find his grace sufficient as well.