Faith Isn't Silent: Finding More and More Grace
2 Corinthians 4:13-15
It is written: "I believed; therefore I have spoken." [Psalm 116:10] Since we have that same spirit of [Spirit-given] faith, we also believe and therefore speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you to himself. All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.
Paul quotes Psalm 116:10 here, where the psalmist is surrounded by "cords of death" and deep anguish, yet still declares his trust in God. In a similar way, Paul and his companions faced constant peril; shipwrecks, literally spending a day and night floating in the sea. They suffered beatings, rejection, and yet they kept speaking the gospel.
Why?
Because faith isn’t silent; it compels us to proclaim what we believe, even when our circumstances scream the opposite. Their hope wasn’t rooted in present comfort but in the unshakable reality of resurrection yet to come.
That Grace isn’t a static gift we receive once and hoard, it’s dynamic, expansive, and multiplicative. And as grace multiplies, something else overflows; grace extends further in thanksgiving for the family of believers, "All this is for your benefit."
Paul’s hardships, his bold proclamation, his very weaknesses weren't an end in themselves. His suffering, his speaking, his refusal to quit, these were never just about him. They were conduits, earthen vessels. They were channels through which God’s grace could flow outward, reaching more and more people. This is something very important the church can learn about the nature of Grace and the means by which it is gifted.
Paul has already told us in verse 7: "We have this treasure [Grace] in jars of clay." Earthen vessels. Fragile. Ordinary. Easily cracked. Yet these are precisely the containers God chooses to carry His priceless treasure. They were conduits, earthen vessels.
Some exalt the vessel itself, as if humanity’s highest calling is to become a worthy container for the Spirit of God. But Scripture guards us against that subtle pride. No jar of clay can contain the infinite Spirit in the sense of holding or controlling Him. The Spirit is not captive to us; He is sovereign, uncontainable, "like the wind" that "blows wherever it pleases" (John 3:8). We do not possess Him...He possesses us. We bear Him. We carry Him. God in His grace chooses to work through us, to shine out of us, but the value is never in the vessel. The glory belongs entirely to the treasure it bears.
And marvel of marvels...the treasure remains pure. The contents are not tainted by the cracks in the clay, even though there are many crackpots. Nor by the lingering flaws of the man, like a stinky onion stinks up its plastic container. Our sin, our weakness, our mixed up motives; none of it corrupts the grace that flows through us. The Grace remains God's Grace in spite of the human taint.
Let me state that again because it's incredibly important:
God’s grace does not absorb the stench of our sin. It passes through us undiminished, unpolluted, unchanged. The grace that reaches others is still God’s grace, radiant and holy, in spite of the human taint.
How can this be?
Only because the power belongs to God and not to us (2 Corinthians 4:7). He is the One who guards the purity of His own gift. He is the One who shines His light through broken vessels without letting the cracks dim or distort it. Because God's Grace brought the gift God will give it what it requires to complete His work. And one means for achieving this end is through our suffering.
God will not allow His purpose to be frustrated by the weakness of His messengers. Remember when Jesus told the disciples that He must suffer.
In Luke 9:22 He said plainly, "The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life." Later, on the road to Emmaus, the risen Lord explained to the two disciples, "Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?" (Luke 24:26).
Jesus’ suffering was not an accident or a setback, it was the necessary path. Through the weakness and shame of the cross, God unleashed the greatest display of Grace the world has ever seen. The purest Treasure was poured out through the most broken "vessel" imaginable. Yet not one drop of grace was tainted. Instead, that suffering became the very means by which grace multiplied to the ends of the earth.
When we suffer and yet continue to believe and speak, the same dynamic unfolds. The surpassing power is shown to be from God and not from us. In fact, our taint stands as a backdrop for the purity and potency of the gospel to shine all the brighter. The contrast is plainly evident and visibly unfolding in our changed character. The outward man is perishing. The bruises and scars are "light, momentary afflictions".
"Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day" (2 Corinthians 4:16)
Light? Momentary?
Only when measured against the eternal weight of glory they are achieving. While the outer shell cracks and fades, something radiant is growing within:
Love that endures wrong.
Joy that defies circumstance.
Peace that guards the heart in chaos.
Patience forged in the fires of delay.
Kindness extended when we ourselves are hurting.
These are not natural human virtues polished by effort; they are supernatural fruit that ripen precisely where the outward man is being bruised. The man learns to take his lumps, and to count them all as blessings.
The world looks at a suffering believer who still hopes, still forgives, still speaks grace, and sees a fool. The contrast startles them. They are embarrassed for him. Embarrassed by his refusal to curse God, to grow bitter, to demand his rights. His faith offends their human wisdom.
Our bruises, then, are not just personal trials to endure. They are public testimonies. Our scars preach louder than our words ever could. The outward perishing, the lumps we take without retaliation, the quiet counting of afflictions as joy, these make the gospel credible in a world that worships strength and despises weakness.
So let the world call us fools. Let them be embarrassed on our behalf. We know the end of the story. And in the meantime, our weakness is extending His grace to more and more people, turning startled observers into thankful worshipers, until the knowledge of His glory covers the earth.
The apparent "delay" in Christ’s return, in final justice, in the full unveiling of Glory, is not caprice on God’s part. After all, it’s not the fault of the faithful that the Lord delays. Peter tells us plainly:
"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9)
Grace is "delayed" by the resistance of unbelievers in some sense, yet only in the sense that God sovereignly withholds the end in order to extend the offer. Every day the gavel does not fall is another day mercy lingers. Every moment the Judge tarries is another moment the invitation stands open. The resistance of hardened hearts does not thwart God; He uses it as the very occasion to lengthen the day of salvation and achieve more and more Grace. We are not delaying the Lord; He is patiently using us; our lumps, our scars, our stubborn hope, to extend the reach of grace to more and more people.
So again, keep taking the lumps. Keep speaking the hope, it is the Father’s kindness. And one day soon, when the full number has come in, the patience will give way to His Presence.
Closing Prayer
Patient Father, thank You for not treating us as our sins deserve. Thank You for using even the resistance of unbelievers, and our own quiet suffering, as means to extend Your Grace further. Forgive us for ever growing impatient with Your patience. Strengthen us to keep believing and speaking, to keep counting every bruise a blessing, until the last invited guest has come to the feast. Then let the doors close in perfect justice and open wide in everlasting joy. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Amen.