A captivating answer to the problem of human weakness

"I bet that chafes at you..."

I sat in the Deacon's office recently, after several months between meetings. It's not really a formal thing, these meetings. They kind of proceed out of the need of the moment. I usually arrive without much forethought, unlike the years where I did more formal spiritual direction, although there is always much prayer beforehand. It's just an opportunity to see where the Holy Spirit will lead today. 

We had been discussing when and how I should return to writing or to any formal ministry leadership of any kind. The answer of the moment? Not at all. Just writing as the desire strikes, and not troubling myself with any particular feedback right now. Just the simple exercise of getting my own thoughts onto paper, that is all. And yes, that chafes at me, though I know deep within it is exactly the right answer for the moment.

I had been pushing myself so hard that I actually took on a 20-week long small group leadership role, three weeks after a major surgery last year, and only five months after the death of my mom, while my husband coached a baseball team and my daughter was in marching band season. No kidding. Why did I do that? Partly because I really desired to do so. It was a great role for me, a mission I could really get behind and delve into. It was a wonderful way to grow more and share in others' lives and to heal from some deep wounds, and God provided for me every step of the way, crazy as it was. The other reason? No one else stepped up. 

Slowing down is not in my vocabulary outside of personal prayer, and even that has been more of a challenge post-shutdown, post being stuck in a house with four other people and constant noise and interruptions. It still chafes at me, if I'm honest, and yet, I find this invitation to a glorious freedom and rest. Something I had not expected, as I slow down even more than I thought I could or was even necessary, though I'll be honest, my mind hasn't quite got the message yet, nor have all our family commitments.

We live in a world that does not accept weakness, or slowing down, or really anything less than perfection these days. Someone who is going at a slower pace often feels confusing to those caught up in the fast pace. When a mistake is made, there is either someone waiting to say, "here, just let me do it," or else we can simply be discarded in such a consumer culture as ours. Or worse, we can throw all caution to the wind and just accept anything and everything as being okay. You're okay, I'm okay. Until one of us is not. If no one can meet the impossible standards of humanity these days, we just give up setting them at all.

Thanks be to God, He does not see things that way. When it feels like life has come to a grinding halt and yet, even that is too fast paced, there is this absolutely delicious and somewhat intoxicating invitation to something else entirely, something entirely other - to simply rest in the knowledge that I am God's daughter. That's all. 

I am not His daughter because of anything at all that I do. I am His daughter because of what HE is and does. I am His daughter because I trust that this is true, that He can do in me all that He asks of me, and I simply cooperate. I am His daughter because He loved me before I even came to be, before I could even chance to do anything or be anything. He loves me because He IS love. He can't be anything else. "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19 New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition).

God does not love me because of what I do for Him or how I make Him feel about Himself. He does not come to me in need, for me to make Him feel complete (Acts 17:24-25). He does not need my love in order to feel okay with Himself, seeking my validation. He is not like the capricious gods of past pagan cultures or self-focused or broken humanity. He comes simply out of love and desire to know and be known. He makes His heart able to be known and loved. His love is like the ocean. It swallows up my sins and is a never-ending quest to know Him still more. He quenches my thirst as nothing else in this world possibly can. And He invites me to rest in this love. He invites you to rest in this love.

When He walked this earth, fully God and fully man, subject to all the same pressures and exhaustion as are we, Jesus once said "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30, NRSVCE)

God will not ask anything of us that He will not empower us to do, but the amazing thing to me right now, is not in what I can or can't do. It is totally centered upon my very weakness. In the quiet times of life, the seemingly dark times of life, those are the times where we are most invited to really know and to enter into Him who made us and knows us best. It is like hitting the pause button to the craziest movie ever to simply hear the most beautiful song never conceived by the human mind.

St. Paul said this best when he said, "but he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:9-11 NRSVCE) 

Sometimes I have to stop working so hard, sometimes trying to fix broken things or making things better in broken relationships, initiating conversations or filling gaps in ministries, etc. Not every thing is mine to do, initiate or repair. Sometimes, if I keep doing those things, it stops others from stepping into their own places of weakness and healing and being with God, of recognizing their own brokenness and vulnerability and ability to come to the table to be healed, to reach out to me or to others in their own human need. It stops me from being able to just be broken or weak, too, because I will falsely believe I have to have all the answers. I have to embrace the discomfort of not knowing what will happen next, of leaving the void to be filled by the other. 

We are called to become disciples and then to go and make disciples (Matthew 28:19), not to do helicopter ministry, parenting, relationships, etc. If I do too much, it can stop a beautiful mutuality from forming, where we meet in all our mutual humanity. 

I think that's what it's really all about. The moment when we delight simply to not know. To not have all the answers, to not know what to do. I think it is then that we can actually enter into true communion with God and others, as we seek the answers together. Until that point, someone becomes either an object or unnecessary, disposable even, and we can't know another's humanity until we first know and experience our own. When we are weak, then we are able to need others, to know what it's even like to need, and to work together. When we lean into our own weakness, it is then and only then that God's fullness and power are truly unleashed to heal and unite. When we are weak, then we are strong. 

Peace be with you.

Photo Credit: Tom Pumford, stocksnap.io