Strength and Weakness
I want to be intrepid. Unshakeable. Capable. Self-sufficient. Impregnable (which is a joke in and of itself). Indomitable.
I want to be strong.
Over and over again the last few weeks, though, I have learned that my battle cry is not that. It is, instead, "Weakness, weakness, weakness." I must proclaim this repeatedly. I must learn to revel in it, reminding myself that when I am weak, His strength shines through.
Recently, I've thought often of Moses, weakened, tired, sending out Joshua to fight the battle, while he sat on the mountain and literally had him arms propped up by Aaron and Hur, so that he could do the only thing he was capable of doing: pray. I am Moses in this scenario. I have nothing to offer to this situation or any other except my utter dependence on God for the victory.
You are the ones holding my arms. You are the ones fighting the battle. You are the acquaintance showing up on my doorstep to take my temperature and look at my rash. You are the friend staying with the boys so I could go to the ER. You are the ones praying while I am there--and rejoicing with me when it turns out to be just a virus and a funky rash (not something weird like shingles). You are the ones sleepless and just being there for me. You are Aaron and Hur. You are Joshua.
And I feel like a broken a broken record, and I'm sure you are all sick of hearing this, but I am daily astounded by the grace that is being poured out over our family as I have completely crashed and burned and lost any ability to pull my own weight (much less that of the two boys or the twins).
I have nothing left to say but thank you. And then continue to boast in my weakness and His strength.
I want to be strong.
Over and over again the last few weeks, though, I have learned that my battle cry is not that. It is, instead, "Weakness, weakness, weakness." I must proclaim this repeatedly. I must learn to revel in it, reminding myself that when I am weak, His strength shines through.
Recently, I've thought often of Moses, weakened, tired, sending out Joshua to fight the battle, while he sat on the mountain and literally had him arms propped up by Aaron and Hur, so that he could do the only thing he was capable of doing: pray. I am Moses in this scenario. I have nothing to offer to this situation or any other except my utter dependence on God for the victory.
You are the ones holding my arms. You are the ones fighting the battle. You are the acquaintance showing up on my doorstep to take my temperature and look at my rash. You are the friend staying with the boys so I could go to the ER. You are the ones praying while I am there--and rejoicing with me when it turns out to be just a virus and a funky rash (not something weird like shingles). You are the ones sleepless and just being there for me. You are Aaron and Hur. You are Joshua.
And I feel like a broken a broken record, and I'm sure you are all sick of hearing this, but I am daily astounded by the grace that is being poured out over our family as I have completely crashed and burned and lost any ability to pull my own weight (much less that of the two boys or the twins).
I have nothing left to say but thank you. And then continue to boast in my weakness and His strength.
