God Does Not Need Our Swagger

Meekness, Might, and the Strength We Keep Misunderstanding

Two statements crossed my path recently.

The first explained Jesus’ words, “Blessed are the meek, For they shall inherit the earth,” by saying that the Greek word praus was a military term for a warhorse trained to charge into battle without panic. The meek, it said, are extremely dangerous people who have placed their enormous power under the authority of God.

The second warned against serving a “puny God.” If we truly understood that we serve the God of the universe, it said, we would never worry. God can make it rain one day and cause the sun to shine the next. He can change our circumstances overnight.

At first, the statements seem unrelated.

But they are trying to accomplish the same thing.

Both are concerned that we have made biblical faith too small, too soft, and too weak. Both want to restore strength to our understanding of God and of those who follow Him.

And both, I think, overcorrect.

The Greek word Matthew uses for “meek” is praus. It means gentle, mild, humble, or meek. It can describe an animal that has become gentle or tame, but it was not a special military designation for a warhorse.

Meekness is not weakness.

But neither is it restrained violence—a dangerous person waiting for God’s permission to charge.

The world already knows how to admire dangerous people. Jesus pronounced His blessing upon the gentle.

The best picture of praus is not a warhorse. It is Jesus Himself.

“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,” He said, “for I am gentle and lowly in heart.”

Jesus possessed all authority in heaven and on earth. Yet He did not use His strength to defend His ego, dominate others, or retaliate against those who wounded Him.

He washed feet.

He remained silent before His accusers.

He entered Jerusalem riding upon a donkey.

He submitted Himself to the cross.

Jesus was not helpless. He was surrendered.

That is meekness.

The meek are not necessarily people with enormous personal power held barely in check. Some of those who first heard Jesus had very little earthly power. They were poor, occupied, overlooked, and oppressed.

Jesus was telling them that they did not have to seize the earth by violence. They could trust the Father to give them what He had promised.

The meek inherit the earth precisely because they do not have to take it.

Then there is the warning about serving a puny God.

The heart of that warning is true. We often reduce God to the size of our circumstances. We measure His greatness by the speed of His intervention. If nothing changes, we wonder whether He is listening—or whether He is able to do anything at all.

But God is not made great because the rain stops when we ask.

He is great when the rain continues.

He is God when the Red Sea opens, and He is God when Paul’s thorn remains.

He is God when the prison doors shake open at midnight, and He is God when faithful witnesses remain in prison.

He is God when He changes everything overnight, and He is God when morning arrives looking painfully like the night before.

Certainly, the God of the universe can change our circumstances. Sometimes He does.

Sometimes He calms the storm.

Sometimes He carries us through it.

Sometimes He delivers us from the fire.

Sometimes He meets us in the middle of it.

His failure to do what we expected does not mean that He has become smaller.

And knowing the greatness of God does not mean we will never worry. David worried. Paul carried deep concern for the churches. Jesus Himself was sorrowful and deeply distressed in Gethsemane.

Faith is not the inability to feel fear.

Faith is knowing where to carry it.

Faith is not never trembling. Faith is reaching for God while we tremble.

Trials do test our faith, but the test is not simply whether we believe God can change everything overnight. The deeper question may be:

Will I still trust Him if He does not?

Have I made an idol of the God who always gives me the outcome I desire?

Or do I worship the God who remains sovereign even when I do not understand His ways?

God does not need our exaggerations to make Him powerful. Nor must we turn meekness into muscular bravado to make it respectable.

The God of the universe has chosen to reveal His strength in ways we would never have imagined:

Through a manger.

Through a towel and basin.

Through a donkey.

Through silence before Pilate.

Through a cross.

This is not a puny God.

This is power beyond our understanding—power so complete that it does not need to prove itself, power capable of stooping, serving, suffering, forgiving, and still overcoming the world.

So today, I will not serve the puny god created by my fears.

But neither will I remake the God of Scripture in the image of human swagger.

I will follow Jesus—gentle and lowly in heart.

Meekness is not weakness.

God’s silence is not absence.

And circumstances that do not change overnight are not evidence that God has surrendered His throne.

The God of the universe is still God.

And He is still holding us.