Do I have to hide all my struggles to be welcomed in a church?
What comes to mind when you think about church?
For many people, the image is pretty discouraging: unenthusiastic services, old hymns that feel stuck in the past, and buildings that look like they're one generation away from closing their doors for good. Maybe you've visited a church and left feeling like it was lifeless and irrelevant.
But there's another image problem that might be even more damaging: the idea that church is only for people who have their lives together. That to be welcomed, you need to hide your struggles, put on a good face, and pretend everything's fine.
What if both pictures are completely backward?
When Getting Real Feels Risky
In 2 Corinthians 11:16-33, the apostle Paul—the guy who started churches all over the ancient world—finds himself in an awkward position. Some smooth-talking speakers have shown up in Corinth (a wealthy city known for loose morals, kind of like ancient Las Vegas) and they're undermining Paul's credibility. They're polished, impressive, and they make Paul look foolish by comparison.
So Paul does something unexpected. He decides to play their game—but with a twist.
"You want me to brag about my credentials?" Paul essentially says. "Fine. Let me tell you about my resume."
The Most Disappointing Resume Ever
Paul starts strong. He's got the heritage: born into the right family, raised with the right values, educated by the best teachers. If anyone had reasons to be confident in their background, it's Paul (2 Corinthians 11:22; see also Philippians 3:4-6).
But then his list takes a turn.
He's been imprisoned. Repeatedly. He's been beaten within an inch of his life—five times receiving 39 lashes (one short of what was considered a death sentence). He's been beaten with rods three times. Stoned once and left for dead (people throwing rocks at him, not a drug overdose). Shipwrecked three times. He's gone without food, without sleep, without shelter. He's been in danger from rivers, robbers, his own people, strangers, cities, wilderness, and even from people who claimed to be his friends. (2 Corinthians 11:23-27)
And on top of all that? He carries the daily anxiety of caring for all the churches he's started (2 Corinthians 11:28).
At first glance, this sounds like adventure—like the kind of dramatic ministry that makes for exciting stories. But let's be honest about what Paul is really admitting here:
Paul was a criminal who spent a lot of time in jail. He paid court fees in multiple jurisdictions. His body was broken and abused. He apparently didn't know when to keep his mouth shut—you don't get arrested and beaten that many times if you're a smooth talker in stressful situations. He trusted other people too much. And either he was terrible at travel planning or too cheap to book decent passage, because three shipwrecks, Paul? Three? (in fact at least one of them was a prison-transport)
He either didn't follow his budget, wasn't very good at his tent-making business, or wasn't a shrewd businessperson.
The bottom line is this isn't supposed to be a polished, impressive resume. This is a guy barely holding it together, just trying to make it to the next town.
The Point Paul Is Making
Here's what Paul wants us to understand: In a world bragging of its own greatness, we disclose our weakness to highlight Jesus' strength.
Paul had every worldly credential. He was born into the right family, got the right education, followed all the religious rules perfectly. If anyone could boast about their qualifications, it was him. But instead, he boasts about his brokenness.
Why? Because when we're honest about our weakness, Jesus gets the credit he deserves.
Paul wrote to this same church earlier: "God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise. God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong...so that no human being might boast in the presence of God" (1 Corinthians 1:27-29).
If Jesus can use someone like Paul—who couldn't walk a straight line without getting arrested, who carried a criminal record too long to travel with, who kept getting on boats that sank—then maybe, just maybe, Jesus is the real deal. Maybe he really is the living God who's still working today.
Every Human Is Human
Here's a simple truth that changes everything: every human is human.
The apostle Paul? Human. Your pastor? Human. That person at church who seems to have it all together? Human.
And yet Jesus calls these very human people into the most important mission in eternity.
Think about your own list for a minute. What's on your list of reasons why Jesus shouldn't use you?
Prison time or a criminal record?
Financial problems or bad money management?
Family dysfunction?
Past abuse?
Addiction?
A car that barely runs?
Trouble communicating, or worse—saying the wrong thing loudly when you do speak?
Paul carried all of this and more. And he says, "If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness" (2 Corinthians 11:30).
Because when we hide our weakness, we deny Jesus the glory of showing his perfect strength.
What a Healthy Church Actually Looks Like
A missionary in India named Mary Geegh tells the story of when she worked with teachers who practiced sitting quietly together, reading Scripture and waiting for God to prompt someone to share. One teacher never participated—she just sat silently, clearly uncomfortable.
Then one day, she spoke up. Years earlier, she had stolen a gold belt from her aunt. The theft had eaten her alive. She couldn't trust anyone, couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't rejoice in anything.
When she finally confessed through tears, do you know what happened?
The other teachers started singing. They praised God for her courage and victory in confessing.
If we're going to be a hospital for the sick, we can't kick the wounded when they come in and tell us they're broken.
That same week that the teacher confessed her own theft, money was stolen from her classroom. She prayed with her students and felt led by the Holy Spirit to share her own story of stealing the belt—how Satan had tempted her, how it made her heart hard, how for years she was miserable until she confessed.
She told her class, "I pray that the child who has taken the money will confess it right away so that he can be happy again."
The children all prayed silently. Then a boy stood up: "I took the money."
The children clapped and sang, "Praise him. God is love."
That's what confession looks like in a healthy community. Not shame. Not rejection. But celebration that God is at work, that the Holy Spirit is leading someone to truth, that healing can begin.
So Do I Have to Hide My Struggles?
So do I have to hide my struggles? No. Absolutely not.
In fact, the opposite is true. James 5:16 says, "Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed."
You don't have to share your struggles with everyone. But you do need to share them with someone.
Not because we want everyone to see how disgusting or broken we are, but because we want everyone to see how glorious, mighty, merciful, gracious, loving, and slow to anger our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is.
When we take off the mask and own what's broken—when we're honest about where we're struggling—Jesus gets the credit he deserves. Because if he can work in lives like ours, if he can use people as messed up as we are, then maybe his love really is as powerful as the Bible claims.
A healthy church isn't a museum for the faultless, it's a hospital for the broken.
What's Your Next Step?
Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "I've been carrying something heavy for a long time. I don't know who to talk to."
Or maybe you're thinking, "I've been hurt by churches before. I've felt judged. I don't know if I can risk being vulnerable again."
We get it. Taking off the mask is scary — but living behind a mask is exhausting.
If you need help figuring out next steps—whether that's finding someone safe to talk to, exploring what faith in Jesus really means, or just processing what you've read here—we'd love to hear from you. You can email us at ocala@weareneighborhood.church or call/text 352-236-2211.
You don't have to have it all together to be welcomed here. In fact, we're learning that the most honest thing any of us can say is, "I'm human, I'm struggling, and I need Jesus."
Because in a world bragging of its own greatness, we choose to disclose our weakness to highlight Jesus' strength.
This blog post is based on a message from our series "The War With Pride," exploring 2 Corinthians 11:16-33. You can watch the full message at Neighborhood Church Ocala.
