Musings, Worship

Of Weakness

I do not pretend to be strong, or to have it all together. I am weak and imperfect, and of this I am painfully aware of. Eloquent speech I do not have, nor do I possess the natural charm and charisma that exudes effortlessly for some. Left on my own, I have nothing much to show of myself. Not much talent, nor capability, nor strength, wisdom and awareness. If it is true that we have this treasure in jars of clay then perhaps I may be counted amongst the most fragile.

There was a time when I despised my helplessness and vulnerability. I wanted to be hard and strong. I wondered at the marvelous way some seemed to always hold it all together. So mighty. So admirable, so capable. Why was it the closer I walked with Him, the more stripped I felt? Why is my heart becoming more raw and vulnerable by the day? What has become of my security and my safety? How will I fend for myself? … And what then, do I have to offer?

I still do not understand. Most days, I still feel very weak and helpless.

//

But oh, this I do have.
Real love.

So if I must remain broken, let me be broken at the feet of Jesus. If I must be weak, let me be weak, so He can be seen all the stronger. Let me get out of the way, so that Jesus may be put on display. Let all who look upon me see not me, for there is nothing much to see, but Him.

Let the perfume of this little broken life cause all to stop and stare upon the One whom it is being poured out like a sacrificial drink offering on.

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