blessed are the weak

Forty-one days into 2017.

And my thought is this: blessed are the weak.

This is not an actual beatitude. Although it very easily could be.
The poor in spirit (Matthew 5); those who mourn (v. 4); the meek (v. 5); those who hunger and thirst for righteousness (v. 6); those who are persecuted (v. 10) — could all likely be classified as weak.

“My strength is perfected in weakness,” says Jesus (2 Corinthians 12:9, paraphrase).

2017 has had a challenging start. It has so far been characterized by mourning, heartache, disappointment, confusion, doubt, tears, brokenness, weakness, exhaustion, conviction.
With these sharp, piercing companions I have also known joy, peace, quietness, surrender, wonderment, hope, grace, mercy, extraordinary love. I daresay that these latter cannot be fully experienced and enjoyed without being preceded or accompanied by the former.

Blessed are the weak.

Sometimes God’s greatest mercies are also our most painful experiences.
In His mercy, He exposes my idols and calls me to cast them down.
In His mercy, He says “no” to this so that I will say “yes” to Him.
In His mercy, He crushes my dreams so that I will be open to His dreams.
In His mercy, He allows me to feel deep pain, coupled with a deeper longing, in order that He might be my refuge and healer.

His mercy sometimes feels like losing a limb. It desolates. It cripples. It cuts to the heart. It reveals a sickness that exists beneath the surface wound.
But I would rather be beautiful to God in my brokenness then to grieve His Spirit in my stubborn wholeness.

I am learning to be weak. I am learning — slowly — what it means to walk in grace when I have no energy to do so. I am learning to be vulnerable to the Lord. He knows everything about me, but sometimes I try to be strong in front of Him anyway. How silly of me. My strength means nothing to Him; only my weakness brings Him delight, so that HE can be my strength.

My mantra of late has been this: that God has greater and more fulfilling plans for my life than anything I could possibly dream up. And, friend, I must believe this; because much of what I have dreamed for myself has not come true.

But He is able to do “exceedingly abundantly above all that [I] ask or think” (Ephesians 3:20). It is in His mercy that God does not forget the times when I have prayed that He would preserve Himself as my greatest treasure (to quote John Piper); that He would do whatever it takes for me to totally surrender my life to Him, no matter the cost; that, no matter what, I would learn to love Him more than anything this life can offer.
I all too quickly forget that I pray these things. He does not. And He is still answering these prayers, much to my desolation — sometimes frustration — and ultimately to my good.

God will always do what brings Him the most glory, even if it means stripping everything away so that He is all I have left.
Thank You for Your mercies, God.