weak I am. One of my roommates amusingly observed, “Living here is
like, ‘I wonder where I’ll get hives today?’” As humor often has an
element of truth, I will leave it to you, the reader, to draw
conclusions as to the effects this place has on one’s integumentary
system. As for the rest of my corporal systems, I think every one of
them has rebelled at least once in my four months here. In fact, until
a few weeks ago, my two housemates and I hadn’t gone 5 days together
where we all felt well. Having always considered myself a strong,
independent woman with a lot of ambition, the ongoing reminders of my
physical weakness have brought me to my knees in new ways. There are
days where a two hour language lesson, 105’ heat, and cooking three
meals seems all I can accomplish. For a girl who’s always managed to
pack more into her life than was probably wise, I find myself failing
to meet my personal ideals on an almost daily basis. Of course, there
are also days like yesterday.
It began at 5:45am when my alarm chirpily reminded me that Fridays are
ladies’ prayer at 6:15. An hour later, I found myself greeting about
50 women at a neighbor’s wedding. Two hours, a hearty Chadian meal, a
myriad of dishes, and countless greetings later, I rushed back to my
house for two hours of language tutoring. As a rest time, I caught up
on email for around a half-hour. I then made lunch and baked a cake,
preparing for three hours of meetings with teammates. I capped all
that off with dinner and game night. Not shabby in terms of using
every minute in a day productively.
So what’s the balance between rest and work? What does that look like
here, where my body needs more rest than it ever has, and still
struggles to keep healthy? How do I maintain ambition, push myself,
and overcome obstacles without paying for it in exhaustion, illness,
or vulnerability to spiritual attack? In truth, I don’t know. “Go as a
learner” they said, and I was eager to devour new language, culture,
and practice, but I never imagined how much I would need to learn
about myself and my relationship with God. And here I find myself
admitting… even spiritually and emotionally, I am weak. You guys, this
is hard. I have surely always been in possession of these particular
weaknesses, yet I’ve never been in an environment which tested them to
this degree. Here, I learn so personally about a God who uses the weak
things of this world to confound the things which are mighty (I
Corinthians 1:27). I echo the Psalmist who says “Have mercy upon me,
Oh Lord, for I am weak.” And I learn about the humility required to
admit my susceptibility to a degree of weakness I would formerly have
despised.
the humility required of God who took on human flesh and weakness that
He might be ‘in all ways tempted as we are’ and persevere that He
might redeem mankind. Oh beautiful weakness! Suddenly I see it, not as
a thing to be despised, but as glimpse into my mortality, incredibly
juxtapositioned with my immortality. I understand in a new way a bit
of what it took for Jesus to leave His capabilities, and the things
which were familiar to go and do a new work on earth. I see my
awareness of this weakness as a chance to draw near to God, and allow
Him to fulfill His promise of drawing near to me. So yes, I am weak.
In this flesh and in this context I have no hope of overcoming this
total weakness. However, due to a God who promises His strength in my
weakness, I have every hope of watching the glory of God’s strength
play out in my weakness. And I anticipate experiencing the beauty and
power of the ugly cross covering every weakness in Strength.
