I used to think I could change the world with machine-like force.
Turns out I’m weak. Really weak.
What I am is dependent.
Dependents are not strong.
They are helpless. Incapable of self-care.
And isn’t that the truth–isn’t that me?
A child, or a slightly senile senior
Often embracing reality as something that it’s not,
Expecting my self to be better than I am,
Untethered to reality.
But all the while, safe and cared for.
Because I depend on my Father.
He lets me sink into His chest,
a comfort in utter exhaustion
from the burdens I compel my self to carry.
He is good,
drenching all of His dependents in love
and affection and adventure
In a letter from the Apostle Paul to the early church in Corinth:
“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12)
While we’re on the topic, I’d like to share that I find the quote in this beautiful sunset to be utter crap. ❤