Shortly after I went into full time ministry, I received a gift from my grandparents. It was a leather-bound Bible that fit seamlessly in the palm of my hand and had the words “Holy Bible – Minister’s Edition” sprawled across the front in gold lettering. It was a fine addition to my steadily growing stack of Bibles – yet this one contained groupings of scripture that applied to different areas or struggles that someone might be going through. A guide, if you will, to counseling or encouraging a person in their time of need.

Alcoholism, divorce, anger and pride were just a few of the topics that were covered in this Minister’s Edition Bible. It was a handy tool that I kept fairly accessible in my church office. After I received a call from one of my volunteer youth workers, I remember grabbing this Bible and heading out the door to the hospital.

The mom to one of the students in our youth ministry (this student was one out of a particular group of young people that was picked up and brought to our church by the same youth worker that called me) was taken to the hospital and placed in the Intensive Care unit and was in critical condition. The specific details escape me as to why she was in critical condition but, regardless, this youth worker wanted me, as her pastor, to come down and lay hands on her and pray. She specifically requested that I lay hands on her; a request I found interesting, especially since this youth worker was new in her faith in Jesus. Nonetheless, I remembered the request. As I got to the hospital, I sat in the waiting room, clutching my Bible and scrounging my memory bank for something profound to say.

This area of ministry has never been a strong point for me, so as the youth worker came in to the waiting area and asked me to follow her to this woman’s room, I took a deep breath and asked God to give me the words to say.

I followed her down the hallway and through the doors to the Intensive Care unit. There was a nurse’s island in the middle of the unit with glass doors that circled the island; a way for staff members to keep an eye on each patient in their most fragile state. When we came to the room I was taken aback by this woman’s physical and mental state. She lay helpless upon her bed, moaning a deep and distressing moan. Immediately I thought to myself, “Surely, this woman is going to die very soon.”

The youth worker stood on one side of the bed and I on the other. At this point, I still had no words, nothing clever or pastor-like to say. I just stood there staring at this woman. After a moment of silence, I looked over at the youth worker, laid my hands on the lady, and asked if she wouldn’t mind saying a prayer for this ailing woman.

If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve prayed something extravagant, elegant; a prayer that might sound graceful and important here on earth but would resound as a dull and dreary instrument in the halls of Heaven. Her prayer was much more authentic, real, motivated by a true and childlike passion and a firm belief that the one she was praying for would one day walk out of this hospital alive and well.

My faith was not as bold. My thoughts leaned toward pity rather than the miraculous. I left the hospital with little to no faith that this woman would continue breathing through the night.

A handful of days went by and this youth worker came to me with good news. I smiled but instantly I knew why God chose me, though he didn’t use me, to go to the hospital that day. It wasn’t the strength in my words that God chose; I didn’t use any. It wasn’t my faith that God wanted; I didn’t have any. He chose to use the prayers of one who believed and He chose to display my weakness, he chose to display my unbelief.

“I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses,” the Apostle Paul told the Corinthians. “I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

This is me boasting about my weaknesses so that Christ’s strength can be made manifest in my life. Truly, we can learn from our weaknesses, often times more than our strengths, because it allows Christ to work in and through us and, just as importantly, it pushes our hearts toward humility – a weakness worth boasting about.