We love our heroes. We place them on victory stands and adorn them with honor. We build larger-than-life statutes because their feats were larger-than-life. They often defied the odds and overcame obstacles where others folded under the pressure. We cheer on their success and then quickly turn on them when they fail. For in their failures they remind us that they are human too.
In the Marvel Cinematic Universe Thor was part of the key inner circle members of the Avengers. Confident, if not arrogant. Courageous and self-sacrificing. Rugged good looks but filled with compassion. He was born to be king and people were willing to follow him. But following his failed attempt to stop Thanos, Thor’s story took a dark turn. He devolved into a coward, hiding from everyone and everything. His only solace was the hard liquor he was consuming. When we find him he’s overweight and just under drunk.
The move may have been a brilliant stroke of genius from the writers with Chris Hemsworth selling his Endgame role. Yes, I hated seeing Thor suffer from PTSD. He was still mourning the loss of his mother and pining away the breakup from Jane Foster. His sister, cut off from the family, released Ragnarok upon Asgaard destroying his home city and planet. His father’s death came with his sister’s return. While a remnant of Asgardians were fleeing as refugees, Thanos appeared. The Mad Titan murdered Thor’s step-brother, Loki, along with his closest friends. Faced with his own defeat against Thanos, Thor showed us that the “God of Thunder” was just as human as the rest of us.
Humanity may prop people up as gods, but even the best of us have vulnerable spots. When those areas are exposed and exploited we feel the pangs of death. Most people downplay and hide those areas of weakness. They try to put on a strong face to mask the pain. For the apostle Paul, he chose another approach. He marketed those very areas as the best he has to offer God.
One of the most powerful images Paul paints is the treasure and clay pot in 2 Corinthians 4:7. Center stage to his entire epistle to the Corinthians is a church that props up leaders who show no fear and display great powerful strength. Paul won’t compete on that stage. Paul can’t compete on that stage. He is frail and weak. He is like a clay jar that is fragile, breakable, and expendable. Fear and suffering mark his faith. He hardly goes through life unscathed. And yet, God has chosen to place the priceless and powerful gospel in someone so frail, broken, and expendable.
What holds Paul together, like duct tape, is God. For the gospel of Christ is lived out in frail humanity. The strength displayed in Paul is God working through him. The power for Paul to preach, teach, and endure is fueled by God. The courage to face the future is energized by God working through Paul. Paul refused to take credit for God’s work, as he says,
. . . to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We also carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may be revealed in our body (2 Cor. 4:7b-10).
To say it another way, Paul looked more like the broken Thor from Endgame than he did the mighty Thor of the previous movies. And if the Corinthians, who knew Paul face-to-face, rejected Paul because of his weaknesses, why do we think we, who only know him from history, would embrace him so readily?
Some of this “strength and weakness” theological inner conflict has come to the forefront of my thinking as I’ve been following the 2021 Tokyo Olympics. Simone Biles, reigning Olympic Gold Medalist gymnast, sent shockwaves through the world by backing out of Olympic competition. Making sense of her decision may be an effort in futility, but adding perspective to her situation is possible. While I have no idea of her faith, and based on the treasure in clay jar analogy, Biles is a physically powerful athlete who experienced a crack in her mental and emotional well-being. With that in mind, here are my thoughts to consider.
First, I have only dreamed of competing on such a stage, she has struck gold 23 times (Olympic and World Championship count). She has 31 total medals. Until we have walked in her competitive shoes, we should be slow to criticize.
Secondly, the news cycle, whether it is political or athletic in nature, is a constant barrage of attention. In the age of incessant instant information the news media and social media outlets are constantly looking for a new and breaking story. Constantly. And our athletes are compelled to entertain the reporters. Such attention is unhealthy. I read that Michael Jordan believes even he could not imagine playing under today’s scrutiny.
Thirdly, never underestimate the effect COVID-19 has had on the athletes. The isolation and lockdown has had negative repercussions on everyone, and the reaction has varied from person to person. Remember, the Games were delayed a year. Had they played last year without COVID protocols, we probably would not have this conversation today.
Fourthly, Biles’ success came in spite of being sexually abused by Dr. Nassar. Never underestimate the emotional and psychological damage trauma Biles has had to work through. Can we even fathom what she (and 250 other girls) have had to endure with the spotlight on them for so long? I don’t think so. By the way, a big reason for her to continue competing was to protect the new gymnasts in the US Gymnastic system.
Finally, she has demonstrated tremendous courage and grace in the midst of her trials and through these Games. She could have run and hid or go home. Instead she cheered her teammates on and reentered competition to earn a Bronze Medal in the Balance Beam.
Come to think about it, she appears quite human after all. And we ought to applaud her for that, too.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)