I am weak.

I used to think I could change the world with machine-like force.

Turns out I’m weak.  Really weak.
Anxiety-weak.

Overwhelmed-by-tasks-to-the-point-of-inaction weak.
The-house-is-a-mess-and-I’m-not-even-employed weak.

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.   ❤

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