"Samson" 2007Questions are creeping all over me. are we ever really strong? or is it only our circumstances, the stability of our surroundings which ground us, that make us feel secure? Security is an illusion if it is based on anything external, situational, temporary--maybe that's just what i see out the window.. Even our self-confidence wavers, and yet all else depends on it. Humans are created to stretch boundaries, explore, write, sing, make mistakes, learn, take risks, and do things that look impossible. Almost nothing is impossible when you want it enough, even the human body alone amazes me.. I've met people that refuse to give up.. and nothing stops them. I met this one lady when I volunteered at a thrift shop, whose calf arteries exploded across the room one day (I can't remember why, but she showed me her huge scars) and she was told she would "never walk again".. of course being a single mom in and out of the shelter, she told me she can't afford to be crippled, so there she was that day asking me which jeans made her butt look good.
Slowly, slowly I am growing a bigger faith in people. I have been missing this, but I think God wants me to get it. He believes in us. He believes in me... and we wants me to believe too. He won't give up either.. He knows our potential, for good and evil. We are infinitely capable of both (but we need no help for the latter). I am no better than anyone else. Maybe if life was harder on me, or if I had more opportunities to cheat, lie, and steal, or felt more need to protect myself, I would make different choices and give into different temptations. And once in a while we're lucky enough to have temptations to do things we wish we could say we didn't do removed--because we get caught.
Anyway,
I had a very emotional walk home today, but describing it that way already limits what it really meant, but this is why i'm not done writing.
I left for class at noon, the morning was fine until I was getting ready to go. Something in me just gave way to weakness, like a wave without a crash I felt covered in loss, empty-handed with nothing to give, and on top of that feeling guilty about it. Something inside me thinks I should have all the answers, always be the encourager... shouldn't I? If I claim to know God and be hidden in Christ, shouldn't I have so much to offer? I felt so guilty....... doubtful, and condemned for being so in sunlight.
The whole way to school the word 'weak' resounded. And I told Jesus he had to be strong, that I am so weak and he's gonna have to take this, that I know his strength is made perfect in weakness, but I still feel faint... incapable.. empty. I asked him to be strong for me.
I went to class, got through it, ignored it. Interacted with others. Spoke in front of the class after working in a group to analyze "Bartleby, the Scrivener". Intellectual talk, small talk.
Got to the bike rack, biked a little ways, unsure if I wanted to go home to an empty house. I called some friends to figure out friday, they didn't pick up. I biked a little ways, I forgot my gloves, my hands were freezing. I couldn't keep going, I was so aware of my own weakness, I couldn't make it up the hill. I kept asking Jesus, be strong, be strong in me.. whatever this is.. I couldn't keep going. I knew I could quote truth to myself, tell myself I'm good enough, loved and provided for, redeemed, but I didn't want to. I needed someone else's voice to tell me. I pleaded to God for someone to call me, anyone, I know this is pitiful now.. so I wrote to a friend in Winnipeg, "Please call me". I expected she was in class and wouldn't call. I crossed another intersection, saw a bus stop bench ahead and couldn't get past it. So weak, so empty and frustrated not knowing why. I sat down with my hood up, leaned my bike against the cold metal. I looked in my bag: a book, an apple, and I shoved my bible in before I left the house thinking I might need it. I was hungry, I pulled it out and read the first page I opened to.. "Listen to me in silence, O coastlands; let the peoples renew their strength; let them approach, then let them speak; let us together draw near .... "And something in my spirit rebelled against these words the same way when my teacher played "I am a Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel in class that same day.. all in me felt like liquid and nowhere near anything like the words of the song.. I read on, being broken, "Who has performed and done this, calling the generations from the beginning? I, the Lord, the first, and with the last; I am he.
The coastlands have seen and are afraid; the ends of the earth tremble; they have drawn near and come.
Everyone helps his neighbor and says to his brother, "Be strong!"
...
But you, whom I have chosen.....
fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand..."
And then the phone rang.
My friend from Winnipeg called, I don't even remember what I told her, I just told her I was weak, her voice on the other side holding me up on memories.. I haven't seen her in a while. She said she would read me something.. and she began to read the same passage, "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed....." I asked her to read the whole thing, and by the 29th verse I had walked again a ways, only water comes close to describing living words of a living God that we hoped for all along, that maybe he's good, even if he's not safe. The rest of the lines resonated beyond anything anyone except someone with full access to my heart could speak to me.
She also repeated those words back to me without even knowing they already pounded in my head all the way up the hill: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
Months later, I still have sore spots, I can't even pray sometimes, so I am thankful for my friends. I think to be held up we have to be willing to lean on something, and it's certainly not our own understanding. But my memory is blessed with a glimpse of God in the pain, in joy, inadequacy, and he speaks in many different voices.
“Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.” --Elizabeth Barrett Browning
