My head is swirling, clouded, and heavy.

Why am I so afraid?

I fear man. I fear what they think of me. In my deepest heart, I despretley want people to like me. If i’m truly honest, I want them to see my life and admire it. I do not want them to see my weakness.

How do I embrace the real? Real messes, real mistakes, real consequences, real questioning. Real humanity.

I am so afraid of being wrong. Why? Is it because if I am wrong, I might be rejected, judged, or left alone? These are my worst of all fears. And I fear how I could go on if any of them came to be.

What if I became truly comfortable with my weaknesses, instead of afraid to face them? What if I accepted them? I received the message often in childhood that it was not okay to be weak. That weakness is something to be ashamed of, so my fear of revealing weakness is foundational. It is in my very bones.

I hate to admit this, but most of the time I need to appear strong to be okay. I cannot face my real weaknesses and be accepting of myself. I know this is not truth, but it feels so wrong within me to be weak, to question, to be scared.

But wasn’t I designed to be weak, with a purpose?

Perhaps facing our weakness is the true fulfillment of our purpose.

I have no doubt that facing my humanity is painful and challenging to do, to own, to work through. I need to accept it, but how?

I need to look up. I know I do. Avert my eyes from my troubled heart. Focus on something greater. Lift my eyes to the mountains. To greater hope. To greater power. To a place where my weakness is the missing piece to a puzzle of greatness and everlasting hope.

His power is made perfect in my weakness.

When I am weak, then he is strong.

These familiar words play through my mind.

Could it be that the most major component of experiencing Christ’s strength in me, is my weakness?

Is the key to being able to tackle to most difficult of days, the most draining of emotions, the most trying relationships, and the strength to heal, be me surrendering to my own weakness?

It boggles the mind.

It is not what we know.

It is not what feels comfortable and safe, and so we avoid.

I avoid.

I turn and run.

But he whispers to my worried mind, “Your weakness has purpose. You have purpose. You have meaning, even in your weakness, because you are mine. I’m holding you. I’m always holding you. “

I think of the infant, too weak to lift it’s own head, and yet our hearts burst forth in joy for the meaning and purpose our infant child possesses.

For they are ours.

They are our child.

That is what makes them matter.

That is what makes them significant.

In. their. weakness.

Their purposeful, significant weakness.

Love,

Emma

I lift my eyes up to the heavens – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. – Psalm 121;1&2

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. 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 12:9&10