Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Safe In Weakness

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

-William Williams

Mighty hands, grace holding me up and I am safe. Safer here than in my own strength. Safer here than when I feel able, when I feel humble, when I feel motivated, when I feel like things are going well. Safe; safe in weakness. Safe in weakness that grips the strength of the Greater and doesn’t let go.

Baby cries and I don’t have the strength to get up one more time in the middle of the night . . . eyelids heavy, I take His strength and pull my body from the bed. His strength in me . . . not I, but Christ.

Body breaking and weariness grips me. Exhausted, depleted. Christ enters in and He is my Strength, Mighty One, my Bread, my Helper, Supplier, Sustainer, water in the drought of summer, haven of rest.

Prayer won’t come and lips are heavy. I sense my lack, my lack of praise, my lack of thanksgiving, my lack of trust, my lack of desire. Lay me down, admit my struggle. Christ takes over, Spirit moves and soars within me, prays with “groans too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26) And I am whole, whole in Him. “He is able, He is willing . . .” No more doubt; fear is gone.

Heart is heavy and I don’t have an answer. Heart cries out and pleads for direction, pleads for assurance. Pleads in weakness; grace crosses over and meets my need. Hand reaches out and lifts my sinking faith; pulls me from the waves of doubt and despair.

Husband’s hours are cut at work and I am worried. Worried over paper and metal. Worried for tomorrow. My Father clothes the lilies—will He not also clothe me? Weakness reaches out and the Savior grips me; I touch His garment and I am healed of my worry; trusting in Him I am helped.

A need rises up in our home and I can’t figure out a way to meet it. I am poor; He is rich, the Father of mercy who delights to give good gifts to His children. He will provide for His own; He who owns “the cattle on a thousand hills,” (Psalm 50:10) and He will not leave His children destitute.

How many times, how many countless times did my earthly father leave and the Lord supplied our needs? Never were we destitute; never without hope. Always with our eyes gazing heavenward, always towards the Glory, towards the Father of our hearts who never leaves nor forsakes. “Open wide your mouth and I will fill it . . .” (Psalm 81:10) His faithfulness shadows over and we are covered by the wings of protection and love.

Covered, covered by His feathers, covered by His mercy. Weakness makes me realize my need; weakness opens my eyes to my inability to “fix it myself.” Weakness makes me dependent, opens my soul to His pouring in. Empties me of “me” and “poor old me” and “woe is me.” And fills. Fills with Him, fills with love, fills with trust.

Fills the emptiness, fills the lack, the dearth, the coldness with warmth of grace.

When I am weak, then I am strong . . . His grace is sufficient--- and I sing:

My Shepherd will supply my need
Jehovah is His Name;
In pastures fresh He makes me feed,
Beside the living stream.
He brings my wandering spirit back
When I forsake His ways,
And leads me, for His mercy's sake,
In paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death,
Thy presence is my stay;
A word of Thy supporting breath
Drives all my fears away.
Thy hand, in sight of all my foes,
Doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
Thine oil anoints my head.

The sure provisions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be my abode,
And all my work be praise!
There would I find a settled rest,
While others go and come;
No more a stranger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.
--Isaac Watts

No comments:

Post a Comment