For I Am Weak

I’ve been thinking a lot about weakness lately. What it is, what role it plays in the Christian life and, mostly, how it feels.

I am a strong person. I think that most people that know me would say this about me. Unfortunately that’s not always a good thing, even though the world would most certainly say it is a sign of true character.

In my case, it impedes me. Makes me a slug full of her own self-righteousness. It goes much farther than thinking that I don’t “need” God. It actually makes it so I seemingly don’t need him or, rather, it shields me from developing the real nature that God created me to have so I would need him. The nature of being able to bring him glory.

A nature that doesn’t know what to do. That doesn’t know what to say. That isn’t sure what will happen next and is terrified at the possibilities. That doesn’t know the answer. That is open to being wrong. To being weak. To losing.

My autopilot is strength. I know the answer, duh…don’t you?

A study from HBR revealed recently that people are more likely to trust information from experts when they also outline their uncertainties. I like this study. It shows that people prefer truth more than strength, and prefer humanity over superhuman confidence. They've also found that people in workplaces almost never use the phrases, "I don't know", "I was wrong" and "I'm sorry". Sounds like I'm not alone.

For some hilariously ironic reason I think God should be doing something different with me right now. Changing me faster, healing me more deeply, convicting me more strongly and making me into more of what I think I need to be. But that’s just me again, being strong and knowing what to do.

I don’t know how to be weak. I don’t know how to stop trying to understand things, to stop figuring out what to do. But I guess that’s it right there—not knowing and being okay with that. Sitting in that discomfort and just being. Believing that God knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it.

Relying. Trusting. Admitting. Surrendering.