Why Meekness Is Not Weakness
Blessed Are the Meek
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”
We hear that word—meek—and we assume it means weak. We picture someone who gets walked on. A pushover. Someone who can’t stand up for themselves. Maybe you think of Steve Urkel from Family Matters—all awkwardness and no power.
But meekness isn’t weakness. It’s strength with the volume turned down.
Think about it—Mr. Rogers didn’t yell. He wore a cardigan. But he stood before the U.S. Senate and saved public television with a soft voice and a steel spine. Kermit the Frog is surrounded by a cast of noisy, unpredictable characters—but somehow he leads them with patience, calm, and composure. Neville Longbottom starts out scared of his own shadow—and ends up pulling the sword from the hat and leading the charge. Even Hermann the Cripple (1013–1054)—born disabled and confined to a monastery—gave the church hymns and theology that still echo today.
They weren’t pushovers. They were quiet forces. Meekness isn’t being without power. It’s about knowing where your power comes from—and choosing not to use it to serve yourself.
And in Jesus, we see the true strength of meekness. To Him, meekness and weakness have nothing in common. One flounders in cowardice. The other stands firm in the fear of the Lord.
Playing Catch
Just last week at our General Assembly in Detroit, Pastor Zack Eswine—author of
—preached on this very theme: meekness. And he offered a picture I haven’t stopped thinking about.He said one of the clearest signs of meekness is a father playing catch with his children. Not to impress them. Not to dominate. But to restrain strength in love. A dad doesn’t launch fastballs at a five-year-old to show off. He slows down. He adjusts. He aims for joy, not power. That’s meekness, played out.
Now contrast that with an older sibling or a more mature friend who throws the ball as hard as they can, just to prove a point. Why did they do that? To overpower and impress. No love—just leverage. That was power unrestrained. No meekness, just muscle. They were making a point, not making peace.
But true strength—the kind we see in Jesus—doesn’t flex for attention. It kneels to serve. Meekness is power under control, like a warhorse bridled for the King’s command. It’s not weakness; it’s wisdom. And in God’s kingdom, it’s the meek, not the mighty, who inherit the earth.
It’s no small providence that the same week Zack preached that message, I was due to write about meekness, our next Beatitude. The Lord has a way of weaving these things when He wants us to listen.
So We Resist
In Christ, we find the meaning of meekness. He took on flesh, not with pomp or power, but with vulnerability. Philippians says, “Though he was in the form of God… he emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant.” (Philippians 2:6–7)
He wept over death. He trembled in Gethsemane. He carried the cross and collapsed. This wasn’t a failure; it was a chosen humility. Jesus was divine power, willingly pierced. In meekness, He was crucified; in power, He was raised in glory (2 Corinthians 13:4).
James tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls” (James 1:21). And that’s the challenge. Most of us resist receiving anything: not instruction, not rebuke, not help. We’d rather stay in charge, even if it leaves us exhausted. But the word of God doesn’t take root in a proud heart. It can’t grow in soil hardened by pride, too stubborn to be broken up and prepared for growth.
So we resist. We grab for control. Like prodigals, we want the inheritance now, but we want it on our terms. We either try to manipulate God or grovel to get a handout. But the meek don’t manipulate, and they don’t grovel. When the meek pray, they barely get past: “Thy will be done.”
They Get the Land
Psalm 37 says, “The meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” (Psalm 37:11)
To the world, it sounds upside-down: the ones who don’t push, don’t shout, don’t take what’s not theirs—they get the land? But that’s the kind of kingdom Jesus is building. Not one ruled by coercion or clamor, but by the quiet confidence of those who trust in the Lord’s timing.
As Abraham Kuyper once said, “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, ‘Mine!’”
And yet, who does He entrust it to? Not the boldest or the loudest, but the meek. Those who don’t seize, but receive—those who have nothing to prove and everything to inherit.
Isaiah says the meek “shall obtain fresh joy in the Lord” (Isaiah 29:19).
That’s what we’re missing when we resist meekness: joy. Not artificial cheerfulness. Not spiritual numbness. But fresh, real, soul-sustaining joy. The kind that grows in humility—in places the world overlooks but God inhabits. The kind that comes from being known, not noticed.
Here’s the truth: if you want the blessing, you must receive a spirit of meekness. Meekness is how we receive God’s implanted Word. Meekness is how we wait for the inheritance. Meekness is how we follow Jesus—the one who said, “I am gentle and lowly in heart,” and showed it all the way to the cross.
Prayer
Lord Jesus, we confess that we chase control and confuse strength with self-importance. You showed us that true power kneels to serve. Make us meek like You: quiet in spirit, open to Your Word, and ready to receive what only You can give. Amen.
Thanks for praying! God bless you. We’ll read and pray again next Saturday at 8:30 a.m.
Be known, not noticed. I like that, Bo.