Published: February 22, 2026 at 02:45 AM
Tags: gospel, blog, devotional, weakness, grace, film
Every so often a line from a film sticks in my mind longer than I expect.
In the movie Jesus Revolution, there’s a moment where one character says something along the lines of: “Don’t be so arrogant to think God can’t work through your failures.” It’s a simple sentence, but it’s been echoing around my head for a while now.
That line cuts across something that feels very natural to me: the quiet assumption that once I’ve stumbled, I’ve ruined any chance of being useful. I might not say that out loud, but it sits in the background. You’ve failed here. You’re too weak there. Best to stand back, keep quiet, and let the “real” Christians carry on.
And then Sunday comes, and we gather for the Lord’s Supper. Week after week, that meeting gently confronts the idea that everything rests on my performance.
We don’t come together to celebrate how steady we’ve been, or how well we’ve done at living the Christian life. We come to remember a Saviour who was crucified, and yet lives in resurrection power.
Scripture puts it plainly:
2 Corinthians 13:4 (KJV)
For though he was crucified through weakness, yet he liveth by the power of God. For we also are weak in him, but we shall live with him by the power of God toward you.
The Cross looked like defeat. To the watching world, it was weakness on display: rejected, humiliated, nailed to a tree. But God tells us that in that very place, what looked like weakness was the doorway for His power to be seen in full. The Lord Jesus chose that path; He submitted to that humiliation. It wasn’t an accident or a failure in God’s plan. It was the plan.
That’s not just theology for a book; it has something to say to a believer who sits in their seat on a Sunday, feeling painfully aware of their own shortcomings.
If God’s greatest work came through what looked like weakness, why am I so quick to assume He can’t do anything in the middle of mine?
The Bible doesn’t pretend that weakness is comfortable. Paul knew all about that struggle. When he asked the Lord to remove his thorn, the answer he got back wasn’t what most of us would hope to hear:
2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)
And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
Most of the time, I’d prefer the opposite: “My strength is made perfect in your competence.” That would make more sense to me. Let me be steady, organised, bold, always on top of things, and then maybe I’d feel like I could be of some use.
Instead, the Lord keeps bringing me back to this upside-down way of looking at things: His power is best shown when I have to lean on Him, not when I can stand on my own.
That doesn’t excuse sin, and it doesn’t turn failure into something pretty. Wrong is still wrong. Carelessness still needs to be judged and confessed. There are things in my life that the Lord has every right to put His finger on.
But it does mean that my weakness doesn’t slam the door on His work.
- The times I’ve spoken clumsily in the Gospel, and then gone home replaying every sentence in my mind.
- The days when my Bible reading has felt dry, and I’ve wondered what’s wrong with me.
- The seasons when prayer has been more sighs than sentences.
I can look at those and assume, “Well, that’s it. I’ve failed. I’m useless now.” Or I can take them into the light of verses like these and admit, “Lord, I am weak, but You knew that before I did. If anything good is going to come from my life, it will have to be Your strength, not mine.”
The Lord’s Supper keeps the focus where it belongs. We break bread and drink the cup in remembrance of Him, the One who “was crucified through weakness, yet liveth by the power of God.” We’re not gathered to admire our own track record, but to worship the Saviour who has never failed, and never will.
That doesn’t make my failures harmless, but it does keep them from having the last word.
- Where I’ve stumbled, there is forgiveness at the Cross.
- Where I feel too small, there is grace that doesn’t run dry.
- Where I only see weakness, God is able to weave His own purposes through it.
That line from the film keeps coming back to mind: “Don’t be so arrogant to think God can’t work through your failures”. There’s a kind of pride hidden in that, almost as if my failure is stronger than His grace, or my track record more powerful than His promises.
The reality is quieter, and kinder: I am weak, and He knows it. Yet the same God who accomplished redemption through what looked like defeat at Calvary is still at work today in very ordinary, very flawed people.
Including me. Including you.
So as we come to remember the Lord, whether it’s this Sunday or the next, it’s worth holding on to this:
Our failures are real, but they are not final.
Our weakness is obvious, but it is not wasted when it drives us to Christ.
And the One who was crucified in weakness now lives in power—and He has not finished His work in us yet.