The God with Whom we Are Uncomfortable: a Strength

Gentle Reader,

For when I am weak, then I am strong. – 2 Corinthians 12:10b (NKJV)

I forgot to take my various medications this morning, so my brain is sloshing around, no longer solid enough to neatly fit inside my skull. That, oddly enough, illustrates the final point I want to make about us and God perfectly:

It is only in fully owning up to and embracing our weakness that we are able to engage in authentic relationship with God.

We can’t go the full-on deterministic route and assign God the blame for every bad thing or every moment of suffering. Nor can we go the complete free-will route and decide that God is totally hands-off. Neither position accurately reflects what Scripture reveals to us about our wildly wonderful Creator and King. When I started this series of posts, I was hoping to be able to discern whether or not God causes suffering to come into our lives. I no longer think that’s the right question; we don’t know enough, can’t see enough, to able to nail that one down.

Now, I ask: What do You want me to here, Lord?

In my heart, I feel that His answer is: Trust Me. Rest in Me. Obey Me. Stay with Me.

I am weak. Frail. Fragile. My life is but a breath, the merest whisp of eternity. I can’t deny that, especially when I want so much to break down crying because the chemicals in my brain are out of whack and it will take awhile for the recently-ingested antidepressant to kick in.

Whether God ordains a thing to happen or allows a thing to happen, I think that He works to bring us face-to-face with our intense inability to maintain any semblance of strength. He is like a drill instructor in that; He seeks to peel back the layers of self-assurance and get to the heart of who we are. He then builds us into the people that He designed us to be. That process, I think, means coming back to this weakness over and over again. What does that song say? Heal the wound – but leave the scar.

In some strange way, I am content in not knowing exactly why I am sick and sad. I could spend the rest of my life trying to figure that out and never get anywhere. I’d rather travel the roads of healing that God has provided, gathering as many tools for the fight as I possibly can, all the while knowing that I will never, ever arrive at a place where I am not in desperate, aching need of Him.

The tears are coming down my cheeks now. My adopted niece likes to say, “But I’m just little.” That is what I feel my soul is crying out. I’m just little. I’m just awkward. I’m just weak. I’m just tired.

And yet I am strong. I am hidden in the folds of God’s robe, tucked safely against His heart. He is my shield, my defender. I might be little, but He is so beyond big. I might be awkward, but He moves with perfect grace. I might be weak, but He isn’t. I might be exhausted, but He never sleeps. I can go confidently forward with a Lord like that.

 For all posts in the God with Whom we Are Uncomfortable series, go here.