real strength

I never considered myself physically strong as a kid. An athlete, I was not. I couldn't hit a softball very far. I wasn't a fast runner. I was a lousy arm wrestler. I also never considered myself to have a strong personality either. I wasn't popular in school with a grand following of friends, and when I tried to boss my siblings around they never listened to me. I know. I know. But it was all very frustrating anyway. I hated feeling vulnerable and powerless. I hated feeling weak.

There was a season of time though, in my 30's and 40's and early 50's when I was physically strong and mentally determined to do whatever necessary to handle whatever task was set before me. I had a husband and younger children that needed taking care of and I did it. During those years I worked part time jobs, taught children's church, took painting classes, volunteered full time at our church's food pantry, went to Vo-Tech and earned a certificate in Data Processing, and then earned my BA in English, with honors. I didn't strut around like Wonder Woman thinking I was invincible and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, it's just that when I had a project or job to do, the necessary strength and energy to do it were there. They were always available for the job.

One benefit of accomplishing some of these things is that during that time I became more confident in who I was...who I am--enter more 'strength.' But, as the birthdays pile up, I find myself feeling more and more physically vulnerable. I still can't run worth a flip and I'm still a lousy arm wrestler. At nearly 58 yrs old, I doubt that's going to change much. There was a split second that I considered going on to earn my MFA in Creative Writing but I think that window is closed for the time being. I don't have the desire...I don't have the energy to do it right now. I need my go-get-em for other things, other projects, other dreams to reach for before my time here is through.

That's another thing I think about because of my age. I wonder how much time I have before the Lord calls me home. Now, don't get all goosey on me. I'm not being morbid. The fact is, I know a lot of people my age and older who are still thriving and doing well, but I have already read too many obits of classmates, acquaintances, friends and family who were about my age not to notice it. I'm just being practical. I want my years, however few or many, to be about the important stuff. I want to be walking in fellowship with the Lord so close that I don't make foolish missteps that cost precious time with Him. Enter real vulnerability.

Lately, I find that when I let down my guard and allow myself to be genuinely vulnerable with my Father, peace flows like a powerful river in my heart, steady and sure. Trust grows. Prayers become less of me telling Him exactly how I'd like Him to fix something and more of me bring my concerns to Him and asking Him to do what is best--in His own way. My confidence is still there, but it's confidence in my Father and His wisdom, not in my own. My resources are still available but they are in Him. Our bodies are made to grow up, be strong, grow old, then weaken. Our spirits are made to mature and discover our true strength is not in ourselves, but in the Lord, and our vulnerability, our powerlessness, and our weakness all show His strength. For when I am weak, He is strong.

Jesus loves me this I know. For the Bible tells me so.

Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong.

I love being one of His little ones.

Lord, let me always be weak--be vulnerable--with you. I need your strength, your wisdom and your direction. Thank you for caring about me...about us, your children. You are good. I love you.

Suzanne